To Save a Life
by I am hurricane
Summary: "You aren't a killer, Stiles. You're a survivor. Theo wound Donovan up and set him loose. There was nothing you could have done to change it. You aren't the bad guy. You're the guy that runs in a straight line into danger for his friends. You've saved Scott, you saved Lydia last night, and you've been saving me since before we met. You're still trying to save me." she insisted.
1. Whiskey In the Dark

**To Save a Life**

Disclaimers: No copyright infringement intended. MTV owns Teen Wolf. I own nothing.

P.S. I adore all teen wolf characters (except for the evil ones. Those I hate as I should) and I have great respect for each of them. I don't believe in bashing. So please remember in commenting that my love for 'the pack' overrides my love of any one ship. But be warned this is Stalia-centric story. So if you don't like that don't read it. Stalia is my OTP and I am prepared to go down with my ship ;)

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 **Chapter One: Whiskey In the Dark**

Stiles felt like he hadn't slept in days. He remembered carrying Lydia to Ms. Martin's car and tucking in her seat belt, he remembered the haunted look in her wide eyes. But everything else was a blur. When he jolted into wakefulness hours later it was dusk. He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes and tried to shake the sinking feeling in his gut. An image lingered in his mind's eye, of Malia being held down by a dread doctor's disembodied gauntlet, mercury spilling from her eyes. He needed to see her, to hear her voice, anything to get that image out of his head.

Sitting up he felt groggy, his eyelids felt heavy and bruised. And there was day-old dried blood on his favorite pillow. He grimaced, tugging on his shoes, he shuffled to the bathroom to clean himself up. After his patch job he stumbled down the stairs on lead feet. He forced down some burnt coffee, while he shrugging on his coat and grasping for his keys. The screen door slammed behind him as he jogged down the front steps. The night sky was settling into a dusky blue.

Bounding into his jeep, he hit the call button on his phone. A few ignored voicemail's and a patch of highway later, he was no closer to reaching her. He swung by her place, but found her car missing. Drumming his fingers nervously on the wheel he thought of what he wanted to say to her. Knowing from experience she was probably at one of her favorite haunts he threw the jeep in reverse and turned back onto the highway.

A thousand fragmented thoughts raced through his brain as he drove. Things he wanted to tell her, things he was afraid she might say. The closer he got to the preserve the more his hand tightened on the wheel. It wasn't wise confronting a seriously pissed off werecoyote, but he was ninety percent sure that, she loved him and wouldn't take his head off. The other ten percent thought that she just might.

He found her car abandoned by the chain fence, parking his jeep he stalked through the woods at night about as comfortably as he ever did. He could see his own breath, he hunched his shoulders at the late October chill and shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

He found her, where he expected, her back pressed against one of the rocks leading up to her old den. What he didn't expect was to find an open bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand. _That's new_.

She wasn't looking at him, but she knew he was there. She was obstinately ignoring him. They hadn't spoken privately since that day outside the sheriff's station, and from the look of it she wasn't about to start. Then something in her posture changed and she turned looking him up and down, "I smell blood." She said.

Stiles raised his eyebrows, before he remembered the blood on his pillow.

"No, it's just my ear. I'm OK." Her eyes don't seem convinced, but she doesn't challenge it, like she might have only a few weeks ago.

"You, been to see Lydia?"

"No. I ah-just crashed after everything. You?" his voice sounding hoarse to his own ears.

"Me neither. Scott, and I have been taking shifts watching her house though. Just to make sure."

Warmth unfurls deep in his chest, he's overcome with a familiar rush of emotions. _Pride. Affection._ Falling in love with her didn't happen all at once, it built up over a handful of moments like this one. Until one day it caught him completely off guard.

He takes a step towards her, his eyes watching her intently, but she looks away bringing the bottle to her lips taking a long pull. He watches her swallow it enviously.

"If you were there all day, what are you doing here now?"

"Drinking." She answers in that nonchalant way of hers. Smirking he shakes his head

"I can see that. Aren't you tired?"

"After these last few weeks. I'm not sure I'll ever sleep again."

A chill slithers down his spine, behind his eyes he sees a flash of the gauntlet around her neck and he stiffens.

Ignoring the wary look she shoots him he crosses the space between them and drops down on the rock next to her feet. He just needs to be closer to her. He hopes her inner coyote is appeased that his posture defers to her dominance. Malia doesn't say anything just passes the bottle to him. Keeping her eyes trained on the gnarled branches of the dark woods around them.

Her head is tilted at an angle that signals his inner detective that she is lost in the subtle sounds of the forest. He knows she can probably hear the shift of the wind in the trees and long grass, the hum of crickets and night owls. He hopes she is tuned into that and not his skittering heartbeat. It's kind of terrifying being so in love with someone who is a walking lie-detector. It often makes him feel like she holds all the cards. But he's gotten very good at reading her. And even if she's not much for talking out her feelings, Malia has a bundle of tells.

This for instance, tuning him out meant that he had to make the first move because, Malia was about as stubborn as he was.

Stiles downed a mouthful of whiskey before choking out, "You ever gonna talk to me?"

"Stiles," she sighs, tiredly. "I really don't want to talk."

"Ok." He whispers, his throat tightening. He's never heard her say his name quite that way before. She's said his name thousands of times in so many ways. But never like this. Never like it was painful.

Malia takes a breath and slowly exhales it, she makes an almost imperceptive wince, and adjusts her position on the rock slightly. It's then that Stiles notices the way her left arm is slung across her waist, protectively. His eyes cut to her, assessing her face, he turns his body toward her and she tenses.

"Easy." He coaxes. "What happened?" He asks reaching for the hem of her shirt, but with icy cold fingers she brushes him off.

"It's healing. Deaton, gave me something, I mixed it with this." She told him, saluting him with the bottle. Stiles blanched, the whiskey on his breath suddenly making him feel queasy.

"And what's it gonna do to me?" he gulped. Malia smiled wolfishly at his expression.

"You're in for a rough night, Stilinski. But you'll live." The queasy feeling dissipated with one look into her gleaming eyes, she was laughing at him. He hadn't made her smile in a really long time, even if it was at his own expense it felt good. But the feeling passed quickly.

His eyes suddenly narrowed, "You'd only go to Deaton, if Scott or I dragged you. Why aren't you healing? How bad is it?" he interrogated.

Malia held up a hand forestalling him. "It's from a few nights ago. Deaton says it's most likely psychological, he couldn't find anything laced in the wound."

"Laced in the wound," he repeated.

"The desert wolf is known to lace her claws with poison." Malia informed him coolly.

Stiles swallowed thickly, "The desert wolf…cut you up with her poison claws?"

Malia nodded, and brought the bottle back up to her lips, "Most people only get crazy on one side of the family." She began, taking a sip and hissing at the burn of the whiskey on the back of her throat. "Me, I had to get the matching set."

Stiles stuck out his hand and waggled his fingers. "Gimme" he grumbled. Malia served him a sardonic look before dangling the neck of the bottle out to him. She muffled her surprise when he downed a long pull of the whiskey before returning it to her. His face contorting in disgust from the meld of sour whiskey and the bitter of taste wild Reishi. Malia was hunched forward resting her elbows on her knees, she dropped her head so he couldn't see her smile.

Stiles raked a hand through his hair, "You should have told someone." he ground out, "You never should have went after her alone."

Malia scoffed, "She had Deaton."

"She wasn't trying to kill Deaton. She was after you. You're gonna get yourself killed." Stiles was furious he could feel it coursing hotly through his veins. Malia's nostrils flared.

"I can handle the desert wolf." She growled. Stiles jutted his finger toward her abdomen

"Yeah. Sure seems like it." He said, curtly.

"You left." she snapped. "Did you think I was going to come tell you my sad little story?"

Stiles, thinned his lips "No. I expected you to know that no matter what is going on with us. I'll always be there for you."

Malia shot to her feet, stalking away from him, with a growl she hurled the bottle out into the darkness. Wiping at her mouth with the back of her sleeve, she whirled back towards him,

"HOW THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT!"

Stiles stared her down, fists clenched at his sides, "BECAUSE WE SAID WE'D NEVER LEAVE EACH OTHER BEHIND!"

Malia's eyes locked with his and for a fraction of a second there was a flash of hurt in her eyes, but it was quickly swallowed up in a sneer.

"Well words are cheap, aren't they, Stiles? It didn't keep you from walking away." She replied coolly.

His shoulders drooped, the fight going out of him. "Malia," he pleaded, softly.

"No. Don't do that." Malia snapped.

"What am I doing?" he asked.

"Don't look at me like that with your big brown eyes. I'm mad at you." Malia frowned. Stiles, sighed he stepped a few paces away from her. Facing her square on, he abruptly shut his eyes.

"Ok, then." He whispered. "I'm not looking at you."

"This is stupid."

"Malia, please." he entreated "Just let me get this out. And then if you want me gone, I'll go."

He heard her, breathing from a few feet away and could feel her eyes on him.

"Talk." She barked. He listened to the crunch of the leaves underfoot as she stalked away from him, back to her rock.

"I, uh-" he stumbled, his mouth going dry. He didn't want to lose her. And this was that moment that he probably loses her for good. Anxiety was rolling off of him in waves. He drummed his fingers against his thigh and cleared his throat. Malia is just a few feet away on the rock and she can hear his heart and smell his chemo signals and he is perilously in the dark. He's got a chance here to put all the feelings churning inside him into words. A chance to make her understand.

"We, gonna be at this all night, Stilinski?" Malia asks, her voice gentle. It's that that anchors him. Even when she's furious with him, she's gentle. For someone who is as fierce and powerful as she is, it's a surprising quality, but one he's well acquainted with. A flood of images come to him unbidden. He sees her with her nose buried in one of his thick plaid shirts, reading her textbook. He sees her parked with him in the jeep, her head pillowed in his lap her feet dangling out the window. He sees her laughing, dashing away from him as he chases her for the remote. He sees her in the darkness of his room, those gorgeous eyes of hers wide in concern, her touch careful as she brings him back to himself after a nightmare.

"I lost something," He forces out. "When I pulled that pin, I killed him. And I lost part of myself. I thought I was going to lose my best friend. That my dad was never going to be able to look at me again. That I didn't deserve you." He choked out, "And then you figured it out. And you didn't judge. Just like you promised when we met." His lip curled upward in a rueful smile. "I was so angry that you could just accept what I did. I didn't deserve it. I wanted you to be angry at me to fight with me. I wanted you to expect better of me. I didn't deserve you. So I pushed you away. I hurt you." He felt it now the prickling behind his eyes. "And I know that you won't believe this but I need you to hear it. When your family died. It wasn't your fault. It was the desert wolf, you were just a kid. And I know you want her to pay for taking them from you, for making you hate yourself for years. But you can't kill her, Malia. You can't let her take that part of you. She's already taken so much. Don't let her have this." he pleaded his voice thick with tears. "I don't ever want to have you feel like this. Like you are not yourself, anymore. Like you're not good enough-"

He never sensed her approach but he felt her touch feather-light on his face, her thumbs brushing against cheekbones, swiping away his tears.

"Open your eyes, Stiles." She commanded softly. He blinked his eyes open to the blurry image of Malia's concerned gaze. She had not let go of him, her fingers continue to swipe at tears that fell unbidden.

"Mal-"

"It's my turn, Stilinski" she shushed. Squeezing his shoulder as she looked at him point blank.

"You aren't a killer, Stiles. You're a survivor. Theo wound Donovan up and set him loose. There was nothing you could have done to change it. You aren't the bad guy. You're the guy that runs in a straight line into danger for his friends. You've saved Scott, you saved Lydia last night, and you've been saving me since before we met. You're still trying to save me." She insisted.

She pressed her forehead to his, her lips brushing against his with her every word she spoke, "You're still the good guy, Stiles." She told him firmly.

He surged forward kissing her with everything he had, a moan catching in his throat. Malia kissed him back hot and possessive, her arms winding around his neck, "You're still my good guy," she panted against his lips, pulling him to herself, slanting her lips against his own.

He pushed her up against the nearest tree. Tracing apologies against her lips and skin. Her hands were anchoring his face while his were cradling the back of her neck. His hands delved through her hair, skating along her back, until he wrapped her close in both arms. She was toying with the hair at the nape of his neck when his hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt. The drag of his fingers along the coarse fabric of the bandage on her abdomen made him pull back from the kiss abruptly.

"You're hurt." He mumbled against her lips. Malia shook her head, dismissing his concern and tugging him back towards her. Stiles dodged her lips and kissed along her jaw, then nuzzling against her ear, "Malia, you're hurt. And it's freezing." He coaxed, rubbing his big hands up and down her back trying to warm her. Malia's eyes were glowing that ethereal shade of blue, and a wolfish grin was tugging at her lips.

"You weren't complaining a few seconds ago," she replied, smugly.

He leaned in planting a sweet kiss on her lips lingering there as he told her, "I'm so not complaining." Then Stiles pulled her close, trying to warm her up, Malia propped her chin on his shoulder sinking happily into his hold. After a moment she let out a contented sigh stepped back from him, offering her hand.

"C'mon, I'll help you find the jeep. You're hopeless in the dark." She teased. Stiles scoffed,

"You weren't complaining a few minutes ago, either." Malia smirked tugging his hand, she carefully guided him around the tangle of roots and furrows in the forest floor. Her hand might feel icy cold in his grip but just holding her hand like this had heat coursing through him. When they came to the chain, Stiles tenderly lifted, Malia up and set her down on the other side of it, sparring her the twinge of pain in her abdomen leaping over it would have caused. It was a gesture she was unaccustomed to, but her eyes were warm when she watched him hop over the fence himself.

She grabbed her phone and bag from her car then climbed in the jeep next to him. Stiles cranked up the heat, and reached into the backseat for the sweater he always kept back there for her. She quickly tugged it over her head, and then settled in next to him snug in her favorite of his sweaters.

A few minutes later they came to the fork in the road a few miles out of the preserve, Stiles looked over at her in askance. Left was toward her dad's house and right would bring them to his. He waited for her answer with his arm slung over the wheel. Malia smirked and reached over his arm, flicking the indicator upward then invading his space she the spun the wheel towards her. Stiles shook his head smiling down at her, which she took as an invitation to kiss him. He nipped at her lips "You, keep this up were never going to get there," he warned.

She shrugged, "I'm fine where I am." He paid her a fond look before he tucked her back into his side. Stiles pulled out to the right and they drove the rest of the way in a contented silence.

Passing headlights gliding over them intermittently until they pulled into the Sheriff's drive. Malia's night eyes guided them almost soundlessly upstairs to his room. Stiles changed her bandage in the half-light of the bathroom, his face drawn with concern, and regret.

Hoping to pull him out of his dark mood, she leaned forward, whispering, "Kiss it better." He raised an eyebrow but accepted her challenge. Dropping to a knee he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin right above her redressed bandage. Her breathing hitched and Stiles was satisfied to notice her eyes were glowing his favorite shade of blue, again.

"Careful," he teased "Your coyote is showing." Malia shoved him away affectionately, he helped her pull her shirt back over her head and switched out the light.

Kicking off their shoes, they curled up together on his bed, sharing his pillow. Malia drifted off quickly, but Stiles stayed up guarding her from the night, until the first streaks of dawn filtered through his faded blue curtains.

His hand slipped under her shirt checking her bandage again. It peeled away seeped with black blood, but the deep gashes underneath had faded, he gently traced the few faint lines that remained. He gusted a breath of relief against her temple. Pulling the blanket back up around them both, he thought about how guilt, fear and secrets had nearly cost him everything.

But the pack falling apart and having to be pieced back together had taught him something. And he was now unequivocally certain that Theo and the dread doctors would fail. They would fail because they were out for themselves, for their own selfishness agenda. And it would be their undoing.

They had gotten to Stiles and his friends. But they had underestimated, his pack. Because together they had faced down a kanima, a dark druid, an alpha pack, assassins and a psychotic Peter Hale. They were survivors. And as long as they were together, they could survive anything. Because pack, means friendship, it means love, it means never being left behind. Stiles tucked a strand of hair behind Malia's ear. So bring on the desert wolf, dread doctors and chimeras, because—the pack is back.


	2. Like This Old Mix-tape

The wind shifted through the curtains, tickling his face and ruffling through his hair. Stiles was content in a tangle of warm blankets and shifted burrowing deeper, chasing sleep. The breeze persisted brushing along his arm and toying with his hair. He flopped onto his back with a huff. He squinted hostilely at the open window. Then he shot upright kicking off his blankets. He only ever left the window open for Malia. And she wasn't there beside him. He had fallen asleep a little after dawn, pressed up against her.

Worry had always been his resting state, but considering that the desert wolf had literally just had her claws in his girlfriend a few nights ago, his hyper-vigilance felt justified. Tugging on his shoes, he loped down the stairs. He found no signs of life in the bathroom or kitchen. And her shoes were missing. Stiles dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe last night hadn't meant what he had thought it had. Maybe it had just been about comfort.

The sputter and whine of his engine brought him to the screen door. Dazed by mid-morning sunlight he stepped out onto the porch and was met by his father's long-suffering expression.

"I'm not sure what you did." The sheriff said, glancing over his shoulder toward the jeep's open hood. "But, whatever it was. Keep doing it." Stiles saw a flash of brown hair behind the hood and relief flooded through him. Whatever his dad said next he completely missed. The next thing he knew, he was being swatted in the chest with the mail "Stiles, get over there and help, you're girlfriend." The sheriff said, exasperated. But there was a proud gleam in his eyes, as he passed by him.

Stiles sidled down the steps and came around the far side of his jeep, he stopped short at what he saw. Malia was perched on the fender, half crawled inside the engine. Her shirt was ridden up, and her hair spilling out of a sloppy ponytail, falling in her face. AC/DC's _Back in Black_ was blaring from his speakers, a familiar track from Malia's favorite mix-tape. It had been her dad's, something her mom, Evy had made for him back when they had been in high school together. Tate had given it to her as a way to feel closer to her mom. It had been in the tape deck of his CJ-5 the day they had broken up, and he hadn't been able to let go of it.

He took a step closer, his foot catching on something. At his feet he found a dog-eared book splayed open, its pages stained green, yellow and red. Stooping down he flipped through it. Beneath sections bathed in red highlighter, was the slanted scrawl of handwritten notes. Flipping it closed he found himself holding a tarnished copy of the _1980 Jeep CJ-5 Repair Manual_.

Suddenly there was too much space between them. Dropping the manual he came up behind her. Over the pulse of the music, he heard her muttering a few unintelligible words, as she grappled with something under the hood. Banding his arms around her middle, he kissed her shoulder. Malia leaned back into him making a pleased noise in the back of her throat. She squeezed his arm with one hand, before spinning around to sit towards him on the edge of the jeep. He smirked at the look of her, with her hair askew and a dark grease smudge on the corner of her cheek, perched on the side of his jeep. Bracing his hands on either side of her he leaned forward kissing her slow and thoughtful.

"You, stealing my jeep?" he teased, when they broke. Malia rolled her eyes reaching into the engine she produced a rolled wad of duct tape.

"How about, thanks, Malia. For prying melted duct tape out of my engine block."

Sticking the ball of duct tape to his shirt for effect. Stiles brushed it off, leaning in capturing her lips again, "You are so much hotter than my last mechanic." He mumbled against her lips.

Malia smirked, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt "You smell good," she replied.

In actuality he could probably use a shower, shave and a change of clothes, but he knew that wasn't what she was talking about. _Chemo signals_.

He ducked his head, boyishly "I'm happy, you're here." He explained.

"You thought I'd leave?" she clarified.

Stiles shrugged, "I woke up and you were gone. I wasn't sure."

Malia gauged him for a moment before speaking, "I could tell you had only just fell asleep." She said. "And I just couldn't keep still. I needed to do something. So I took a run to the preserve and got my car. And went home to grab some tools."

Stiles peered over her shoulder into the engine cavity. Malia had a set of combination wrenches, socket wrenches, a large flat head screw driver and a pair of vice grips, arranged neatly on a grease rag. She had disconnected the negative terminal of the battery and loosened the bolts on the alternator so she could create slack in the v-belt.

"Yeah, I can see that." he said, his eyes flicking back to her. "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked.

Malia had spun back around and was staring at the engine, a look of renewed concentration pinching her features.

"My dad," she said, distractedly "We used to work on his car together when I was a kid. It was always kind of our thing." She told him as she reached back under the hood, starting to slowly work the drive belt off of the pulleys on the engine. Stiles tilted his head. Malia had never shared anything with him about her life before the crash. Everything he knew about her life before they met he had pieced together.

"All I did back then was hold the work light or pass him tools." She told him. Stiles watched her fascinated by her look of rapt concentration, as she very patiently worked the belt over the radiator fan and shroud. She straightened, brushing her brow with the back of her arm and wiping her hands with a tattered rag. "But with me driving, he thinks I should know how to do this stuff and we've been spending a lot of time together lately."

"You like it." He replied.

Malia nodded, "I like working with my hands," she agreed. A smile crossing her face, "And I like spending time with him. He's not much of a talker. But give the man something to fix and suddenly he's telling me stories about my mom in high school, and about Lindsay and me."

"You-" he hesitates, "-you never talk about them." Stiles, said carefully.

Malia bites her lip, her fingers faltering, "We're starting to. It's helping." Stiles reaches out splaying his hand on her shoulder, his thumb stroking against the back of her neck.

"Good," he said sincerely. Malia leans into his touch for a moment before clearing her throat and shifting away. Her eyes back on the task at hand.

Stiles steps around the other side of the Jeep, rolling up the sleeves of his raglan shirt he asks, "So, you gonna tell me how to help with this?"

"Sure," Malia grunts as she lifts a hefty part out of the engine, "Here, take this for me."

Stiles cradles the part to his chest, surprised by how heavy it is, "What is this?"

Malia smirks at him, "That's your alternator, hotshot."

Stiles pales slightly, "Relax, I'm going to put it back. Just set it down over there." She gestures vaguely to the right. He does, then comes back to her side brushing off his shirt.

"Ok. Now what?" he asks hands on his hips, wearing the same look he often directs at his crime board.

"Here," Malia says grasping his wrist, guiding his fingers under the hood to a series of rusty bolts. "Feel these? They're corroded. Can you sand them and try and to get them loose for me?" She asked. Stiles brushes his fingers over them memorizing the sequence, and nods at her. Malia drops his hand and Stiles bends down reaching for the wire brush and a fold of sand paper. He climbs onto the Jeep's front bumper, across from Malia. As they work they are constantly in each other's space, brushing hands and bumping shoulders. After these weeks apart, Stiles enjoys the warm proximity between them.

The track on the mix-tape switched and Chuck Berry's _Johnny B. Goode_ started rattling through the speakers. Malia's steady cranking on the socket wrench suddenly, stills. Stiles looks up from sanding, finding her staring into space. He watches her for a moment before he touches her knee, shaking it gently.

"Hey. You OK?"

Malia shakes herself out of her thoughts and looks at him. Stiles arches an eyebrow at her. A look of indecision crosses her features before she meets his eyes, "This was Lindsay's song," Malia explained. Stiles sets down the sand paper, wiping his hands on the knees of his jeans, and tilts his head listening. It's an old track, just the sort of thing you'd expect a little kid to love, with its boppy simple lyrics and wild guitar.

"She used to make them play it over and over." She said wistfully. "Dad would twirl her around to it, and Mom would make the car 'dance' to it, just to make her laugh."

Malia sniffed, brushing her nose with the back of her arm grabbing her wrench she started cranking again. "I used to say I hated it just to get her going." Malia said, "She was so much fun to bug." She admitted, smiling ruefully. Stiles squeezed her knee. Wishing he could do something or say something. But all he could do was listen, and guard her secrets.

Malia hissed, pulling her hand back from the engine, her knuckles scuffed and cut.

"You alright?" he asked.

Malia kissed her bleeding knuckle, "S'ok," she mumbled, "This part is just tricky. Pass me the vice-grips." Malia directed. Stiles spun around, finding them on the grease rag and handing them over. Stiles was working at the bolts he had been sanding and crowed when the first one spun loose. He held it out to Malia, triumphantly. Malia's eyes were laughing at him.

"Good. Hang on to that. We'll need it." Stiles nods pocketing the thing.

"So." Stiles began, unable to restrain his curiosity, "Which song was yours?"

Malia looks up at him smirking, wiping her hands on a rag, before sliding off the side of the Jeep and disappearing inside the cab. He hears the sound of the mix-tape popping out and being flipped over. It takes her a minute or so to fast-forward to it, then she cranks it up. The song snapped and warbled before, it picked up with heavy bass and drums. The Runaways' _Cherry Bomb_ pounds through the speakers. Stiles smirks at her as she reappears around the hood.

Malia hops back up on the fender, clearly pleased with her selection. The song was everything Malia was; bold, uncensored, and impossible to get out of your head.

Stiles laughs at her, "Wow, your dresses and pigtails faze must have been a real dark time for you." He teases.

"Shut up." Malia, says tossing her rag at him. Stiles catches it, snickering.

Malia reached inside the engine and began pulling the v-belt out. It was a worn and chewed up thing that she tossed on the concrete.

Stiles followed it with his gaze. "Hey!" He protests. "That looked important."

Malia shook her head at him. "It is. Which is why I'm replacing it." She said with emphasis. "We already have enough things trying to kill us, without adding the Jeep to our list." She joked.

"Yeah," He agrees, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, "We should probably talk about that."

Malia's laughter echoes from under the hood, "You'll have to be more specific. Are we talking beasts, dread doctors or chimeras?"

"The Desert wolf."

Malia climbs out from under the hood and drops her socket wrench into her red tool box. "I really don't want to talk about that," Malia tells him over her shoulder as she stalks away from the Jeep. She kicks open her bag and pulls out a water bottle. Turning back to face him as she uncaps it.

"I know." Stiles acknowledges. She swallows down half the bottle before tossing it back in her bag.

"What do you want me to say?" Malia snaps, shrugging her shoulders. He can tell she feels cornered. So he sits on the edge of the bumper, leaning forward watching her with gentle eyes.

"Just the truth." He whispers.

Dropping her head, she kicks at the dirt of the driveway with the toe of her shoe, "You won't like the truth, Stiles."

"I think you're forgetting the part where I'm the guy who was possessed by a nogitsune and tried to kill all his friends." He said, offering her a small smile. "I won't judge. I promise."

Malia's eyes shoot to his. She stands there for a few beats just watching him with an inscrutable expression. Before slowly retracing her steps, and joining him on the bumper. Malia tucked one of her feet beneath his, and stared hollowly down at the concrete.

"I want her dead." She whispered, her voice thick. Stiles leans forward clasping his hands in front of him.

"I know." he whispers back brushing her foot softly with his.

Malia was quiet for a long time after that. Stiles just focused on keeping his breathing slow and even, hoping that she would instinctively match his heartbeat. The Mix-tape popped and warbled behind them as Credence Clearwater Revival's _Who'll Stop the Rain_ spilled through the speakers. Malia brought a hand to her face, holding it to her forehead. Stiles shifted restlessly beside her, the urge to touch her, comfort her, to say something. Anything. Thrummed inside him. But he bit his the inside of his cheek and willed himself to stay still. _Let her come to you, Stilinski._

Malia sighed deeply, "There is this ugly little laminated car cut-out, hanging from my dad's rear-view mirror. Lindsay made if for him when she was in preschool. It's supposed to be an air freshener or something. He keeps it there even though it hasn't smelled in years. And in the glove compartment is this box full of these mix-tapes my mom made for him."

Malia clenched her jaw, "That's all he has left. A shoe-box." She told him bitterly.

"I thought that if I could find the desert wolf then I could make sense of what happened that night. That I could get some answers about who my mother was. And I did. My real mom, the one who loved me, she's buried in Beacon County Cemetery. Because _I_ put her there."

His control snapped. Stiles reached out and tilted her chin up so she would look at him.

"No." He said, his eyes unwavering as he insisted, "Not your fault." With the cuff of his sleeve he brushed away her tears. "The desert wolf killed them, Malia. Not you."

"She pulled that trigger. But it was my nature that killed them." Malia said hollowly.

"Malia-" Stiles began rushing to contradict her.

"-it's OK Stiles," she tells him, as she leaned away rising to her feet. Turning her back to him she reached into the toolbox reclaiming her wrench. She tested it by cranking it in her hand a few times. "You can't make this better. It's just how it is and I've been living with it for a long time."

A surge of anger shot through him. A primal sort of rage. He hated the desert wolf.

Stiles had to lock his jaw to keep from arguing with Malia. He knew her, she was beyond listening at this point. Fighting with her would do nothing to convince her it would only close her down. Behind him, Malia had re-situated herself under the hood. Stiles sat for a few moments listening to her work. Then he climbed back under the hood with her. He kept his eyes studiously fixed on the bolts, the silence hanging heavy between them.

It went on like that for the next fifteen minutes or so, until Malia offhandedly requested the screwdriver. Stiles who had been torquing on one of the bolts with a wrench was so surprised by the abrupt request that he blurted out what he had been thinking.

"I think you should stay at Scott's on full moons."

Malia's hands stilled and she looked up scowling at him, "What?" she spat. Stiles swallowed thickly. She hadn't even looked at him in the past ten minutes. _Congratulations, Stilinski, she's looking at you now._

"A highly motivated ruthless assassin is trying to kill you. The mountain ash will keep her from getting the drop on you." He rushed to explain. "I've already talked to Scott about it."

"You think I'm going to hide from her?" Malia accused. "The last time she came after me I was nine. I'm not a kid anymore. Let her come."

Stiles scowled at her, clearly frustrated. "Where is all that coyote self-preservation?"

"Pain makes you human." she replied. "And being human makes you want things that go against your self-interest."

"Well maybe you should find some. Because the last time you went after her, she left you bleeding until yesterday." Stiles countered.

Malia glared at him, "That was the wolfs-bane."

"Wolfs-bane." He repeated. Arching an eyebrow. "She's a werecoyote, how could she use wolfs-bane against you?" he asked.

Malia looked down and away, "She didn't."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"It was Theo."

Stiles' hand twitched and the wrench suddenly slipped out of his grip and clanged loudly on the concrete.

"Theo shot you." He repeated. "Why the hell was Theo there?"

"Stiles you don't want to know."

Stiles dropped his eyes his mouth tightening as he reached under the Jeep grasping for the wrench.

"You went to him for help." Stiles said bitterly.

"He came to me." she corrected.

Stiles straightened up, dropping the wrench in the toolbox "And you trusted him?" There was hurt and betrayal in his voice.

"No. I used him."

Stiles crossed his arms and clenched his jaw, "It sounds like the other way around to me."

Something in Malia shifted, "Are you…" she ran her eyes over him assessing "Are you jealous that I brought him with me?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "No. I'm mad that you chose to bring a psychopath with you. And I'm pissed off that he hurt you." And he meant it, but buried beneath all that anger there was a little twinge of jealousy that she would accept anything from Theo Raeken. Let alone allow him close enough to hurt her.

"Are you angry at me?"

"No. I'm scared for you. The way you're going after her." he sighed rubbing the back of his neck, "It's like you have no perspective when it comes to her."

"I don't." Malia admitted, "I won't until I end this."

"You're going after her again."

"Lindsay was six years old. She was my baby sister and the last thing she saw was me as a monster. You're damn right I'm going after her."

Blood was rushing in his ears. Malia would never back down, and if she kept coming at the desert wolf like this she was going to get herself killed. Stiles shook his head, there was no way he was going to let that happen. He crossed the distance between them and hauled her against him. Wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly almost desperately. She went rigid resisting, until his words tumbled out.

"Malia, you don't have to do this." he insisted. "You aren't alone in the woods anymore."

Malia softened slightly in his arms, he could feel her rapid heartbeat racing through his shirt.

"You have a dad who loves you. And friends who need you. You have Kira, Lydia, Liam and Scott. You have me." Stiles sighed, "You have no idea how much you have me." Malia gripped him back tightly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. They stood like that for a long time just holding each other, until her pounding heart, settled and started to beat in sync with his.

Then his dad cleared his throat from behind them, and Stiles looked up but didn't relinquish his hold on Malia.

"C'mon inside you two, I made breakfast." Malia pulled away from Stiles slightly and gave the sheriff a small smile. Sheriff Stilinski held out his arm to Malia in invitation.

"You young lady look like you could use a cup of coffee." Malia detached herself from Stiles, and slid into his dad's outstretched arm. The sheriff squeezed her shoulder, then steered Malia toward the house, keeping her tucked into his side as they walked. Stiles followed a few steps behind them. Listening to them talk.

"We missed you around here," his dad said.

"I missed being here." Malia told him.

"You are always welcome here, Malia. No matter what's going on between you and my son."

Sheriff Stilinski assured her. For the millionth time Stiles felt grateful for his dad. He wasn't just a good dad, he was a good man.

"We're all good dad." Stiles said.

"Well if you're ever not. The door's always open." The Sheriff said, to Malia.

"She prefers windows, Dad." Stiles, joked.

"Stiles," The sheriff groused, "I don't want to know about that."

Stiles was laughing, the sheriff was blushing and Malia raised an inquisitive eyebrow toward, Stiles.

"I don't get it." She said. Stiles was roaring with laughter, the sheriff was muttering under his breath, and Malia was wearing a confused smile as they piled into the kitchen.

After pancakes with the sheriff they were back under the hood. The mix-tape had to be flipped over a few more times before they were done. But an hour or so later Stiles was moving the vice grips slightly to tighten the new v-belt to the proper tension. While Malia tightened all the bolts that hold the alternator in place. Pulling back, Malia and he switched positions and with nimble fingers she carefully replaced all the electrical wires to the alternator. Then refastening the battery cables she turned to Stiles with a triumphant look.

"Turn it over." she instructed.

Stiles hopped into the driver's seat and turned the key. The engine revved, purring smoothly. Malia shut the hood, a smug look on her face. Stiles was watching her through the windshield, with affectionate eyes. She came around to the open driver's side door, wiping her hands on a rag. "That takes care of the drive belt and alternator. And I already have some ideas about those brake pads."

Stiles bit his lip, shaking his head, "C'mere." He entreated. Without hesitation Malia slid into his lap. He had one hand on the steering wheel, the other wrapped around her. Closing his eyes he pressed his forehead to her shoulder, "Thank you." He whispered.

Malia turned her face toward him, her eyes bright "You're welcome." Stiles spotted the repair manual sitting on the dash out of the corner of his eye, and smiled crookedly as something occurred to him.

"You were working on this repair manual before we broke up." he said. Malia nodded in confirmation. "So why did you keep working on it after?"

Malia shrugged, "Why did you keep my mix-tape?" she countered.

Stiles thought about it for a moment before answering, "I guess because it made me feel close to you."

Malia watched him for a long moment. "I just…I couldn't let you lose the Jeep." She whispered.

A thrill coursed through him at her words. His eyes locked with hers what he found there had him reaching for her. He kissed her eagerly, her mouth fierce and wonderful against his own. She matched his intensity easily, fisting her hands in his hair while his hands skated along her back. Eventually he pulled back, leaving lingering kisses on her jawline and cheek.

"Would you do something for me?" he asked his voice rough.

Malia's eyes fluttered open, searching his before nodding her consent.

"I need you to let us help you." Stiles pleaded. "If you go after her alone. I'm going to lose you."

"You won't lose me, Stiles."

"If you're in something, then I'm in it with you. That's how this works." He tells her gesturing back and forth between them.

Malia drops her forehead to his "I won't go after her alone." Malia promises. "I will let the pack help me."

"Thank you." he breathes out, hugging her tightly.

Pulling back he smirks at her wiping at the dark grease smudge on the corner of her cheek. "I think after all you're hard work you deserve to take the Jeep out for a test drive." Malia looked at him quizzically.

"Stiles, I just replaced the v-belt. The engine should run for twenty-four hours just to be safe."

"Wow, you take this mechanic thing seriously," he teased. "C'mon you know you want to." he said.

"I suck at driving stick." She confided.

"I'll teach you." he promised.

"Fine. But I'm bringing my tools just in case you strand us."

After packing up Malia's tools and changing their clothes they set off down the back-roads. Stiles was leaned over the console his hand covering hers on the gear. The windows were all rolled down and the wind whipped through their hair as Steppenwolf's _Magic Carpet Ride_ belted from the speakers. Whenever he would tap her hand she'd press on the clutch, and shift gears.

With his help, she caught on quickly. Learning to distinguish the sounds of the Jeep with her superior hearing, and quick reflexes. Stiles eventually took his hand off hers and let her have free reign. She cranked up the radio and floored the Jeep, laughing as the she felt the engine thrill through the steering wheel. She took the curves and hills, with an excited gleam in her eyes, drumming her hand on the wheel, as she sang along to the radio. Stiles grinned, singing along with her, as they soared down the back-roads, kicking up dust.

By nightfall, they were parked at Beacon Point. They sat perched on the hood of the CJ-5 eating ice-cream. Malia laughed, attempting to maneuver away from him, as Stiles stole a bite of her sundae. Malia smirked at him, leaning in to kiss the smudge of chocolate off his lips. He made a pleased noise in the back of his throat.

"Thanks for today," she said, contentedly.

Stiles scooped up a spoonful of rocky road offering it to her as he replied, "Anytime."

Before she could bite into it, Malia suddenly straightened, catching Stiles off guard. She looked out above the trees. Tilting her head slightly, listening. She disentangled herself from him and jumped down off the hood.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Stiles, get up. We've got to go." He slid off the Jeep. Hoping that he'd left his bat somewhere in the Jeep. Stiles followed her, ditching his ice-cream confused until he was suddenly engulfed in a terrific downpour. Then things became abundantly clear.

"Really? Rain." Malia was tugging at the driver's door which was apparently stuck. As the rain came down in torrents all around them. "I thought something was trying to eat us." The door groaned in protest as Malia tried to force it open. "Hang on there's a trick to this." Stiles told her as he forced his shoulder into it, then pushed up on the handle.

The door gave in with a creak and they ducked inside, the rain rushing in with them soaking the seat. Stiles shut the door with a thud. Malia was huddled in the passenger seat next to him. He turned the key, cranking up the heater, just as the speakers crackled to life. Reaching into the back seat he grabbed her sweater. Passing it to her. He reached back behind him finding a discarded plaid shirt.

When he turned back around he found Malia discarding her soaked shirt. The play of raindrops on her tan skin was really distracting. Stiles let his eyes sweep over her appreciatively for a moment before busying himself with his own shirt. He tugged his wet shirt over his head tossing it in the backseat. He shrugged on his plaid shirt and started working the buttons when he felt her eyes on him.

He looked up finding her gaze raking over him in a similar fashion. He dropped his hands leaving his shirt half buttoned, smirking to himself. Nice to know it wasn't only him. Drying his hands on the front of his shirt. He reached out taking her hands in his own. She was already shaking. He rubbed heat into them then brought them to his mouth, breathing on them. Malia was burrowed up to her nose in his sweater, but her eyes were watching him, unerringly.

The mix-tape crackled as the final track came to a close. It made a small mechanical groan, before ejecting. Leaving nothing but the rush of the rainstorm against the windshield to fill their ears.

Stiles tossed his head toward the tape deck. "I should probably give that back, now." He whispered. Malia tugged her hands free from his warm hold and reached for the mix-tape. She held it in her hand running her thumb across the writing, along the sides of it. _It was her mom's writing._

"This was the first one she gave him. When they first met she hated classic rock. When she made this, that's when he knew." She told him, turning it over in her hands.

"Knew what?" he asked.

Malia eyes flicked up to him. "That she loved him." she replied. "Would you do something for me?" she asked.

"Yeah. Anything." He confessed.

Malia reached across the console and slipped the mix-tape into his shirt pocket.

"I want you to keep this for me." Malia said, simply. Stiles touched his shirt pocket feeling it rattle, beneath the fabric.

"Malia—" he began uncertainly. His heart hammering in his chest.

"— I want you to know you're not going to lose me, Stiles."

"Malia." He rasped. "You can't just say things like that and not expect me to crawl over there."

Malia smiled at him beneath her lashes, "Well c'mere to me then."

Stiles crawled over the console and sank into the seat with her. Taking her face in his hands he kissed deeply, pouring everything he had into it. And as she pulled him into the backseat with her. He knew he'd never think about the mix-tape, the Jeep or even the rain in the same way again. When he thought of them he would only be able to remember this moment. The first time he knew without a doubt that Malia loved him.

 **The Mixtape**

Side A.

01\. All Right Now

by free.

02\. Johnny B. Goode

by Chuck Berry

03\. Bad Moon Rising

by Credence Clearwater Revival

04\. Old Time Rock & Roll

by Bob Seger

05\. Sweet Home Alabama

by Lynyrd Skynyrd

06\. Spirit in the Sky

by Norman Greenbaum

Side B

07\. Back in Black

by AC/DC

08\. Cherry Bomb

by the Runaways

09\. Black Betty

by Ram Jam

10\. Magic Carpet Ride

by Steppenwolf

11\. Who'll Stop the Rain

by Credence Clearwater Revival

12\. Every Breath You Take

by The Police

 _0_


	3. You Never Walk Alone

**Chapter Three: You Never Walk Alone**

Stiles was propped against the door of his Jeep in the high school parking lot. He had a stupid grin on his face that he hadn't been able to shake since last night. It seemed a little inappropriate considering everything that was going on in his life. Dread Doctors were bearing down on them, the chimeras were gunning for them, a desert wolf was circling them and a legendary beast was rampaging through Beacon Hills.

But still he couldn't stop smiling. Malia Tate had told him she loved him last night. Granted she hadn't used words, but Malia often didn't use words. The point was he knew. He had known he was in love with her for a long time now. And up until now he was positive that she cared about him, wanted him even but _loved?_ That had been up in the air. And since he was well versed in unrequited love he hadn't been in a rush to find out what her feelings actually were. But the mix-tape changed everything.

When Stiles had driven her home, neither of them had quite been ready to let go of each other. They were parked outside her house for at least half an hour. After having spent most of the weekend with Stiles, she had promised to have dinner with her dad, and then she and Kira were heading over to Lydia's. While he was supposed to meet up with Scott and Argent at the Animal Clinic. But each time they had agreed to part her eyes would quickly gravitate to his lips. And he cannot be held fully responsible when that happens. They were both late. But Stiles regrets nothing.

Now he was standing in the empty parking lot, an hour early for school, grinning like an idiot. He had been up late with Scott tracking leads. He couldn't wait to tell the rest of the pack what they had found. They might finally have their first big break and everyone was supposed to meet up at the library before school. He was fiddling with the keys in his pocket, his foot jostling when he spotted a familiar Toyota Camry. His foot stopped tapping as his eyes followed it with interest. It circled the Jeep once before pulling up beside him.

Malia slammed the door shut fixing him with predatory eyes. Stiles flashed her a glint of teeth as he pushed off the Jeep, starting towards her. Before he had taken two steps she collided into him, pushing him back against the Jeep. Her lips slanting against his in a hot possessive kiss. His head knocked against the CJ-5 making him groan into her mouth. Malia rubbed the back of his head in apology gentling the pressure of her lips against his own. Stiles cradled the back of her head with one hand while the other was anchored around her middle. He smiled against her mouth pulling away.

"Hmm-I have something to tell you," he said. Malia bit her lip shaking her head, as she leaned back into his space.

"What's that thing you say when we're studying?" she said, wrapping her arms around his neck "Focus…" she said in a teasing voice, while nipping at his lips, "…I need your undivided attention."

He had never said those words with the kind of heat that Malia threw behind them. And now he would never be able to use them again with a straight face. So he settled for what he could do which was to kiss that smug little smile off of her.

Malia flattened her hands on his chest, pulling back from the kiss abruptly, her cheeks flushed. Her face was half turned away from him her head tilting at an odd angle, listening.

"I just caught a scent," she said distractedly. Stiles shook his head entwining their fingers and drawing her back against him.

"Stop smelling other people when I'm kissing you." Stiles grumbled. Malia turned her eyes back on him cocking an eyebrow.

"I can't help it." She explained. "The coyote comes out whenever I'm kissing you. It's like all my senses are heightened."

"Still?" he asked flattered.

"Yeah, like all the time." She told him freely, looking up at him with those caramel coloured eyes. She was so incredibly beautiful. But for Stiles the most seductive thing about her was her raw honesty. She was never shy about her attraction to him. Sometimes the looks she threw his way left him completely unraveled. He felt a primal sort of satisfaction that he could affect her in the same way.

Stiles rocked forward, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek. When he pulled back from her, Malia quickly cast her eyes over her shoulder again, her eyes searching for something.

"It's Lydia." Malia said over her shoulder, already starting towards her friend. Stiles looked past her catching sight of the strawberry blonde loitering near the high school doors. He jogged to catch up with Malia's swift gait.

"I thought she wasn't cleared for school for another week. Did she say anything about this last night?" Stiles asked under his breath as they crossed the parking lot.

Malia shrugged whispering back, "No. She never said anything about this." Lydia spotted them and smiled warmly at them both. She wore a pleated floral dress accompanied with her signature heels. Lydia self-consciously smoothed the hair covering her left temple, as they approached her. She might look like herself but the gesture only confirmed for him that she was still far from alright.

Stiles held open his arms and Lydia walked straight into them. They hugged each other tightly for a moment before releasing each other.

"It's good to have you back." He said warmly. Lydia nodded in agreement.

"It's good to finally be here." Lydia replied, paying both of them grateful looks before she touched her hair again. Malia read the gesture before shooting him a conspiratorial look. Malia suddenly reached out gathering Lydia's textbooks under her own arm, before pointing her eyes at Lydia's feet.

"Cute shoes," Malia praised. Stiles couldn't help but smirk at Malia's attempt to speak _girl_.

Lydia being the one who had been coaching Malia in both fashion and girl-speak, only beamed with pride, at her observation.

"The only good therapy. Is retail therapy." Lydia agreed.

Malia gave Lydia's arm a gentle squeeze, "You are wasting a perfectly good opportunity to be free of this place for a few more days." Malia cautioned. "But if you insist on being here, then I get to sit across from you in math."

Lydia's silvery laugh filled the air around them and it lifted a burden off Stiles' chest. He looked at his girlfriend gratefully, then back at Lydia who was already standing taller.

"Of course you're sitting with me." Lydia assured.

The sweet moment between the friends was interrupted by the roar of a motorcycle as Scott and Kira rode up on his bike. Scott pulled off his helmet and jogged over to his friends, his eyes resting worriedly on Lydia.

"Lydia? What are you doing here?" he asked resting a hand on her shoulder. "You're supposed to be resting." Scott insisted. Kira caught up with them and she and Malia shared a meaningful look. "With everything going on. I don't think this is a good idea." Scott said, his voice warm with concern. Lydia cast her eyes downward, her renewed smile faltering. Stiles heard a repressed growl from beside him. Malia scowled at Scott.

"We don't make choices for, Lydia." Malia interrupted, stepping between Scott and the strawberry blonde, "We just make sure she never has to walk alone."

Lydia smiled gratefully at Malia. Then Kira and Malia shared a conspiratorial look before they flanked either side of their friend. Malia instinctively covering Lydia's injured side while Kira took up her right. Then the three of them started for the high school like a force to be reckoned with. The werecoyote, the banshee and the kitsune. Stiles smirked to himself. _Girls travel in packs._

Scott and Stiles fell into step trailing after them, "Do you think this is a good idea?" Scott asked.

Stiles smiled at his best friend knowing that his heart was always in the right place. But in this case that Malia was right. What Lydia needed right now was not to be doubted, she needed to know that her friends were with her.

"I think it's a better idea than pissing them off," Stiles said, clapping his friend on the back. Scott watched the girls marching ahead of them, his eyes scouting ahead searching for threats.

So much of the time Scott carried himself like the whole world was resting on his shoulders. As though it was up to him to protect all his friends and everyone else living in Beacon Hills.

"Hey, it's gonna be OK." He said squeezing his friend's shoulder. "You aren't alone either." Stiles reminded him.

Scott bowed his head, "Thanks, Man." He whispered gruffly.

The halls of BHHS were desolate as they made their way to the library. The girls were chatting animatedly as they tapped their key cards against the automated lock. But once the door slammed behind the reunited pack, something in the air shifted. Malia stepped out in front of the group, her eyes sweeping over the library. Scott went rigid and began snarling in his throat.

Theo Raeken stepped out from behind a bookshelf his eyes sweeping over Lydia in a disturbing fashion. Lydia glared at him, clenching her fists until they turned white.

"Hello, Lydia. You're looking well." Theo purred.

"Stiles," Malia growled, flicking out her claws, "Hold my books." She said just before tossing them in the air. Stiles managed to catch them just as Theo was sent crashing through an oak bookshelf.

The textbooks tumbled out of Stiles' arms as he stared through the gaping hole that Theo had just left in the massive bookshelf.

Theo landed hard in a heap of warped metal shelving and splintered wood. While the bookshelf he had just been flung through wobbled on its feet, groaning and shuddering before finally, careening down on top of him. Books, shelves and planks of wood hailing down on him. He vanished under a sea of books and debris.

"Malia. Don't." Scott pleaded.

Malia ignored him glowering down at the wreckage with bared teeth, a low growl resonating from her chest. As the debris shifted she held her ground. Her eyes tracking her prey as he crawled out from beneath the bookshelf and dropped onto the floor near her feet.

"I guess I sort of had that coming," he choked out, "After that shotgun shell." Theo said spitting blood from his mouth.

Malia's eyes widened "You think this is about that?" she asked forcing him back down with her boot on his chest. Theo flashed her a glint of his bloody teeth before trapping Malia's ankle in his steely grip. He held her foot against his chest with unrelenting strength, his eyes tracking over her greedily.

"Oh come on, Malia. I got close. I hurt you. You're telling me this isn't even a little bit about that?" he asked his thumb gliding along her calf, in a sickeningly intimate caress. Malia shuddered, trying to shake him off. But his hands dug in, his eyes locking on hers openly challenging her. Malia rose up to her full height, pressing her weight down on Theo's chest and bared her teeth.

"You think my feelings are hurt?" she spat out scornfully. "You, sent a wendigo after my boyfriend," she snarled. "You hospitalized the sheriff, you wormed your way into Liam's head. You tried to kill Scott and drove Lydia catatonic." she said, as she dug her the heel of her boot a little harder into his chest. Theo wheezed, releasing her ankle. Malia held him down for a moment longer, before finally relenting.

Theo rolled away, gasping and sputtering. Malia circled him, her shoulders rising and falling with her breathing. "You hurt my pack. The people who saved me, and gave me a home…gave me a family."

Theo climbed to his feet, holding his chest. Malia planted her feet facing him square on.

"I won't let you hurt them again." She vowed flashing her eyes.

Theo chuckled darkly, "Nice speech. Very moving. But I think we both know the truth. I got under your skin, didn't I?" Theo rasped.

Malia pointed her clawed finger in his direction, "All I know is that I'm about to get under yours, in a real way." She promised. Theo's eyes flashed and flicked out his own claws. With a roar he charged her. Malia's boot connected with his jaw, in a smooth round kick, snapping his head back.

Scott lunged forward, "I've got to stop this." Stiles shot his arm out forestalling his friend.

"Easy, Scott. I've got a plan." Stiles assured him.

"OK. What do we do?" Scott asked eagerly, his eyes fixed on the fight. He winced as another crash reverberated through the library. "Because she's going to start running out of bookshelves soon." Stiles' eyes were poised on Malia his fingers drumming against his lips, nervously.

Stiles pointed his finger at Malia, "We let her punch him until her arms get tired." He said, turning back to face Scott, "Then we try talking her down."

"THAT'S YOUR PLAN!" Scott yelled.

"Scott, if you get in their right now, you're just gonna get hurt."

"Dude. I'm an alpha." Scott reminded him.

"Scott, you're my best friend and you know I love you. But my girlfriend will fold you five ways if you try and get between her and Theo right now." Stiles warned him.

"We should at least get, Lydia out of here." Scott reasoned.

"Are you kidding me?" Lydia asked, "There is no way in hell I'm missing this."

Theo was pitched over the circulation counter landing hard behind the desk, sending an office chair skidding into the wall. He leaped back over the desk kicking out and catching Malia in the abdomen hard. Malia stumbled back, gasping the wind knocked out of her.

Stiles stiffened as if the blow had hit him instead, clenching his fist.

"C'mon, baby." He muttered, under his breath.

Theo spun driving his elbow hard into the back of her neck. Malia collapsed on her stomach, letting out a low pitched whine. Stiles surged forward, but Scott caught him holding his friend back.

"I got this." Scott assured him. Scott flashed his eyes and launched toward Malia, with Kira at his heels already reaching for her sword-belt.

Theo was towering over Malia, his foot poised above her windpipe, "It didn't have to go this way you know." Theo chided.

Malia grinned dangerously, "There was only ever one way for this to go." She told him just as she slashed a claw through the bottom of his sneaker. Theo roared stumbling backward. Malia forced herself up on her elbows, blood was trickling from her mouth. Scott roared, stepping in front of her. Theo was growling, his hands holding his bloody sneaker. Kira arced her blade out in front of her, her free hand touching Malia's shoulder gently.

"Stay out of this, you two." Malia groaned. "I'm not finished with him yet."

Kira squeezed her friend's shoulder, her eyes glaring at Theo.

"You sure?" Kira asked. Malia nodded, blood dribbling down her chin as she did so. Scott turned finding Kira stepping back, holding her sword at her side. "Scott, get out of her way." She instructed.

Scott looked back and forth between the two girls. His piercing red eyes searched Malia's finding only pure determination reflecting in her eyes. He gave his friend a nod of assent.

"Just don't kill him." Scott cautioned.

Malia grunted in agreement, then digging her fists into the carpet struggled up to her feet, with a groan.

"KICK HIS ASS, MALIA!" Lydia cheered, from the doorway. Malia cast a look back at the entrance, smirking at Lydia. Then her eyes locked with Stiles.

"You got this, baby." Stiles whispered, knowing she could hear him perfectly. _Be careful._

Kira and Scott drew back allowing, Theo and Malia to circle each other once more. Theo landed the first punch. Malia staggered back, but recovered swiftly, locking her arm around Theo's leg as it curved through the air towards her. With her free hand she drove her fist up hard against his chin. Malia released his leg and he crumpled backwards.

Malia dropped down kneeling on his chest, fisting a hand in Theo's shirt. She reared back and punched him soundly. She hit him again. And again. When she wound up for a third blow, Scott intervened.

"Malia," Scott said. "He's not worth it." Malia sniffed in distaste, wiping the blood off her nose with the back of her arm, before rising up off of Theo.

Theo chuckled menacingly, even as he lay flattened on the carpet. "I'm a little disappointed, Malia. I thought it would take more than your alpha yanking your chain to call you off." He taunted.

"Scott, is my friend." Malia corrected, "And I respect him more than I want to snap your neck." She pinched the air holding her fingers roughly an inch apart, "But only by about this much." She warned.

Scott smirked crossing over to Malia and wrapping an arm around her shoulder bracing her against him as she limped, "C'mon, we're done here." Scott entreated, starting to steer her away.

Theo rolled onto his shoulder, "You will never really belong with them." he said cruelly, "Werecoyotes don't have packs. It's not in your nature."

Malia started limping toward the exit, leaning heavily against Scott. "What would you know about being in a pack, Theo?" she dismissed hotly.

Stiles met them half way, Malia sliding gratefully into his arms pressing her forehead to his shoulder, slumping against him. Stiles caught her bearing up her weight and holding her carefully against him.

"Easy, Slugger. I gotcha." He whispered against her ear. Malia snorted into his shoulder. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." Malia nodded, leaning into him as they walked. Kira and Scott trailing behind them. Lydia was beaming with pride as they staggered over to her. Lydia took up Malia's unguarded left side and offered her arm.

"I don't want to get blood on your dress." Malia protested. Waving off her concern, Lydia grasped Malia's hand squeezing it.

"You Malia Tate are sort of a bad-ass." Lydia praised.

"Don't encourage her." Stiles complained, touching his chin to Malia's forehead. "I'd like her to live a long life."

They were still about ten feet away from the exit when the locking mechanism on the library door flashed a green light and chirped cheerfully. As the door gave way, Malia's eyes widened and she suddenly thrust Stiles and Lydia away from her body and out of the line of fire.

Tracy barreled through the doorway, her reptilian eyes wild, venom weeping from her claws.

She swiped at Malia. But the werecoyote ducked, rolling out of range and rose up planting herself between the kanima and Stiles.

Tracy grinned menacingly as she started towards the pair of them. A blade carved through the air, its edge coming between the kanima and Malia. Kira flashed her fiery eyes at her opponent.

"I'll deal with you later, Fox." Tracy spat her eyes locked on Malia. Malia was holding Stiles behind her, baring her teeth at the vengeful kanima.

"I've been having these rage blackouts." Kira warned her. "So I'd back up unless you want to see what happens when you set me off."

Tracy smirked in response, just before she swung her claws at her. Kira artfully spun out of her range before striking Tracy bluntly with the hilt of her sword. Tracy snarled and kicked out her foot swiping Kira off her feet.

Scott snarled lunging in to protect Kira, when an arm locked around his throat from behind.

"When are you gonna learn that you just don't have what it takes for this, Scott?" Theo asked, crushing Scott's airway.

Scott forced his weight back against the chimera, his eyes piercing red his voice guttural as he replied, "Shut up, Theo!"

Scott broke Theo's hold by driving his elbow hard into the other boy's abdomen. Scott spun towards him punching him square in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. Theo sprung back to his feet, and smirked as he watched one of the wounds on his arm rapidly closing up, leaving only a trail of blood.

Theo gestured toward his arm, "Accelerated healing. A little gift from the dread doctors. One of a thousand reasons why your never gonna beat me, Scott."

Lydia rose up to her feet, groaning as she touched her head gingerly. Squaring her shoulders in Theo's direction she called out to her friends, "Everybody down, and cover your ears!" she ordered.

Stiles and Malia hit the floor shielding each other's ears with their hands.

Scott seeing the glint in Lydia's eyes dove out of the way, and Kira rolled beneath a desk, jamming her fingers in her ears.

"Recover from this, Theo." Lydia said coolly, before a scream came barreling from her throat launching Theo up into air. He flew into the hanging light fixture, the cables ripped from their casings and the light-fixture plummeted with Theo, crashing down into the last of the remaining bookshelves.

Sparks rained down from the ceiling, casting light on Theo's crumpled form, as the bookshelf sunk in around him. Tracy snarled, charging at Lydia from behind. Lydia whirled bringing her hand up toward Tracy. "Bad choice." She scolded, before flinging the kanima across the room with her piercing wail. Tracy landed in a heap on the stairs.

Lydia leaned down offering Scott a hand up, "I totally had him." Scott told her.

Lydia smirked, "I know. My way was just faster." She replied as she pulled him upright.

Kira hopped to her feet, twisting her sword handle the sword slackening back into a belt. She shook her head snickering at Lydia, "Show off," she teased good-naturedly.

"If you've got it. Flaunt it, Yukimura." Lydia quipped.

Stiles straightened up on his knees, unsealing his hands from Malia's ears. He turned her head from side to side checking her ears for bleeding. Malia rested her face in the palm of his hand, sluggishly.

"S'ok. Stiles, my ears are the only part of me that doesn't hurt." She confirmed. Stiles tapped his hand under her chin affectionately.

"Yeah, well you should see the other guy," he said thrusting his head toward the crumpled bookshelf. Malia flashed him a small smile before using his forearms to leverage herself to her feet. She swayed slightly but Stiles caught her around the middle, steadying her.

"My hero," she whispered fondly pressing her forehead to his.

"Says the werecoyote." Stiles teased.

Malia pulled back from him her eyes slightly disoriented, "Something doesn't feel right." She said her voice distant. She was staring at her hand curiously when the library door flew open, thudding against the wall.

Stiles instinctively drew Malia behind him, and Scott roared springing between his pack and the open door.

Parrish stood paralyzed at the threshold of the library his weapon trained ahead of him, he was flanked by Liam and Mason. Parrish lowered his gun upon finding Scott, then his eyes swept over the upturned room, before landing back on Scott, inquisitively.

"So," Liam said slowly, "I guess we missed the meeting?"

"What happened?" Mason asked, his eyes widening as they trailed over the decimated room.

Parrish cocked an eyebrow at the alpha, "Scott?" he prompted.

"Yeah I'm not really sure how to put words to this," Scott admitted.

"Malia, sort of broke the library… on Theo's face." Kira interjected, while clipping on her belt.

"That. Is. Awesome!" Mason exclaimed, enthusiastically.

"Stiles!" Malia cried out, urgently. "My fingers are numb." She chattered, "Tracy must have got a piece of me," she said as she tried to steady her breathing. Her eyes finding the kanima's claw mark on her side. Stiles went to touch her, but Malia drew back. "The venom's probably still on me," she cautioned. Stiles nodded shrugging off his coat and wrapping it around her. He gently scooped Malia up. She hissed in pain.

"I've got to get her out of here," Stiles told Scott. The alpha nodded, looking to Parrish.

Parrish holstered his weapon, "You should all go," he said jutting his chin towards the chimeras, "I'll handle them."

Stiles carried Malia out of the library, with the rest of the pack following after them. Parrish radioed dispatch, reporting a violent altercation at the high school, requesting back-up for two belligerent suspects. As Lydia passed by with her friends she subtly, brushed her fingers down Parrish's hand, hooking two of his fingers in her own and squeezing.

"Thank you, Jordan." She whispered. Parrish watched her with soft eyes, squeezing her fingers in return before dropping his hand and moving into the library.

Stiles was heading for the west exit with Malia, when he heard students in the hallway and had to change course. Pivoting back around the corner, he nearly collided into the rest of the pack.

"There are people in the hallway. We can't make it out, we're gonna have to find a place to lay low for a while." He whispered.

Kira nodded, "I've got a place. Follow me."

She led them through the hallway to a stairwell that led to the School's auditorium. Kira shuttered the pack behind the curtains. "The drama club is on a school trip to New York, nobody will bother us here." Kira assured.

Stiles sunk down against the nearest wall, cradling Malia to his chest. She was shivering hard by this point.

"St-stiles, I c-can't move," she stammered, her eyes wild with fear.

"Shh-shh" he soothed, brushing the hair out of her eyes, "Don't focus on that. Just look at me, OK?"

Stiles reached into his pocket and grasped his keys. "Mason," he said, tossing his keys to him "I need you to go to my Jeep. And bring me the sweater and first aid kit from under the backseat," Stiles explained. Mason nodded hopping off the stage and sprinting down the aisle toward the main hall.

Stiles adjusted his arm wrapping it more securely around Malia shoulders, and drew up his knee pillowing her head against his thigh. Malia's eyes were wide and chillingly blue as they darted back and forth around the room.

"Hey, check in with me." He urged softly.

"C-can't move, can't f-feel anything." She said her voice wound tight, her muscles tensing as she fought against the venom's effects.

For as long as he had known her Malia's greatest fear had always been her body turning against her. Now she was slowly being imprisoned in her own skin left with nothing but her heightened senses. Stiles rubbed his hands along her arm and shoulders, uselessly. Touch had always been a second language between them, something they both easily slipped into. Only now she couldn't even feel the comforting weight of his hands on her skin.

Stiles reached out cradling her face in the palm of his hand, gently urging her to look at him. Malia's feral blue eyes locked with his, her pulse drumming against his palm. Stiles stared right back, caressing her eyes warmly with his own. As they held each other's eyes they carried on their conversation without words. Stiles could read the fear and frustration in her eyes as she looked up at him. _I'm scared_.

Stiles softened his eyes and brushed the skin beneath her eyelids lightly with the pad of his thumb. _It's OK_. _I've got you._

The tension around Malia's eyes started to fade as she stared up at him, her pulse starting to find its rhythm. After a few seconds her eyes settled back into the richest shade of caramel brown that Stiles had ever seen. He cocked his head smiling as he blinked down at her natural eyes.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," she repeated.

Stiles started rubbing his hand up and down Malia's arm again hoping he could work life into the frozen limb. When he looked up he found Lydia's eyes on him, she wore an inscrutable expression. She must have been watching the whole exchange while she and the rest of the pack gathered around Scott talking in hushed voices.

Mason suddenly burst through the double doors and loped onto the stage, sliding to a knee in front of Stiles and Malia. Malia's eyes cut to Mason and her eyes flashed blue as she snarled at the intruder. Mason's eyes widened and he dropped the sweater and red bag. Stiles shot his arm out warding Mason back.

"It's OK. Just back up." Stiles cautioned him. "She can't protect herself right now, it's bringing her instincts out."

Stiles reached out snagging the sweater and brought it up tucking it around her shoulders and letting it brush against her cheek. Malia's eyes fluttered closed as she inhaled the comforting smell of it.

Stiles thumbed the corner of Malia's split lip, wiping the blood away. "Scott, she still isn't healing," he said

Scott stepped forward crouching down a distance away from the pair of them, careful not to disturb Malia.

Malia eyes were screwed up tightly her nose pressed into the sweater as if she was struggling to block everything else out. Scott tilted his head assessing her.

"It's the venom." Scott said, "She won't heal until it's out of her system. And the more she fights it the longer that's going to take." Scott unzipped the first aid kit and pulled out some gloves, "We need to clean the wound and bandage her up. Do you think you can keep her calm?" he asked. Stiles nodded racking his brain for a way to distract Malia long enough to let that happen.

Malia's eyes shot open and darted fearfully around her. "There's too many of us, here. It's making her nervous." Scott told everyone. "Malia," he asked softly. "Stiles needs some help patching you up. Who do you want to stay with you?"

Scott was giving Malia the control she desperately needed right now. Stiles served him a grateful look. Malia's eyes landed on Scott briefly before she whispered, "Lydia."

Rising up from his haunches Scott handed the gloves to Lydia, giving her a few brief instructions.

Scott gestured for the rest of the pack to follow him. "We'll be right outside if you need us." He assured Stiles, before he ducked under the curtain. Liam, Kira and Mason filed out each of them casting reassuring glances at Stiles and Malia.

Lydia gloved up and went to work setting aside gauze, a bottle of antiseptic and medical tape. Stiles watched as Malia's face started to visibly relax with fewer people in her space overpowering her senses.

Lydia handed him a pair of gloves and he slipped them while he tried to distract Malia.

"You know the leaky faucet on the third floor? The one that drives you nuts when we're in English?" Stiles asked.

Malia wrinkled her nose, "I hate that leak."

"Listen for it. Let me know when you find it." He instructed. Malia looked at him clearly unimpressed and Stiles chuckled. "Just trust me."

Malia huffed at him but did as he asked, closing her eyes and focusing her hearing reaching out for a single sound in a sea of noise. Stiles waited for her to get lost in the search before he nodded to Lydia. Stiles pulled the sweater away from her body and parted the jacket covering her allowing Lydia to work.

Malia's eyes cracked open, "I've got it." she told him.

"Good. Now count the drops as they fall." Stiles instructed.

"Seriously?" she grumbled.

"Yup."

Malia rolled her eyes at him but she closed her eyes and began to count anyway, "One…two… three…four…five…"

Lydia rolled up Malia's shirt finding the deep gash in her side. A shard of talon had broken off in Malia's wound. Lydia dumped out the first aid kit and plucked up a set of tweezers. She carefully worked the talon free from her skin. When it pulled free Lydia grinned to herself, while Stiles grimaced at it motioning towards a plastic bag. Lydia cautiously discarded the talon in it.

Then she doused a wad of gauze with liquid antiseptic and began swabbing at the wound, sopping up the blood and venom. She repeated the process a few times before she cautiously sealed up the bloody gauze in the plastic bag. Lydia tossed Stiles a packaged sterile dressing. Tearing it open he pressed it over the wound as Lydia began securing it with medical tape.

Lydia leaned back from her work and nodded, carefully removing her gloves. Stiles sent her a grateful look, before he straightened Malia's shirt and zipped up the jacket. Lydia helped him out of his gloves, stuffing them in the plastic bag. Malia was still counting.

"…forty-five…forty-six…forty-seven—"

Stiles reached out and tapped her cheek lightly. "—OK. Malia. Open your eyes." Malia's eyes blinked open. Stiles smiled down at her relieved to find her eyes had settled back into a deep caramel brown.

"How do you feel?" he asked, as his fingers brushed down her cheek.

"Better, I think." She replied a little puzzled, "How did you know that would work?"

Stiles winked at her. "I didn't."

The warning bell for first period rang shrilly and Malia's eyes went to Lydia, "Thank you for patching me up."

Lydia smirked at her friend, "You just gave Theo Raeken the beating he deserved." She told her, "Patching you up is the least any of us could do."

Malia smiled back at her, "And sorry if I growled at you, before."

Lydia waved off the apology, "Ah, bygones."

The second bell rang and Malia raised an eyebrow at Lydia, "You should head to class, you don't want to miss your first day back."

Lydia shook her head, "I'm not going to class without you. You never walk alone, remember?"

Malia eyes widened in surprise. Lydia pressed a hand to Malia's shoulder. "I'm gonna go wait with the others. But when you're back on your feet, then we're all walking out of here together."

Malia smiled at her. Lydia rose up and plucked a package from her purse tossing it at Stiles. He caught it in his free hand and inspected it.

"So you can clean up her face and hands." Lydia explained.

"Thanks, Lydia." Stiles said sincerely.

Lydia nodded at him before clicking away in her heels and disappearing behind the curtain. Stiles ripped opened the package and freed a disposable hand towel. He took her hands in his own and gently started cleaning the cuts on her knuckles.

"You don't have to stay." Stiles insisted, "I think a brush with kanima venom earns you a sick day."

Her eyes should be lighting up with the prospect of skipping school but she gave him a pointedly serious look.

"I can't. I promised, Lydia." Stiles sighed judging by the look on her face she wasn't about to budge on this. Knowing how much she loathed school that was saying something. He brought the towel up to her face and gently dabbed at the corner of her mouth. A lump forming in his throat.

"You're a good friend." Stiles replied earnestly.

"Yeah, well I picked that up from you." Malia said in that nonchalant way of hers.

His hand twitched at the corner of her mouth and he sort of stopped breathing. She had this singular talent for unintentionally saying the most romantic things. And it never failed to knock him off balance.

Malia looked up at him quizzically, "Why is your heartbeat doing funny things?"

Stiles wanted nothing more than to tell her he loved her right now. He had to lock his jaw in order to force the words back down. She wasn't ready for them. He knew it wouldn't be fair of him to tell her now when she couldn't even run away from them. So he told her in a different way.

Stiles caught her eyes as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. He leaned into her space and nudging her nose affectionately, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. When he drew back Malia narrowed her eyes at him, Stiles just smirked pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"No fair," she whined, "I can't even feel my lips."

Stiles chuckled nuzzling her ear, "I'm sure you'll pay me back for it later."

Malia's hand twitched, "Maybe sooner than you think." She replied.

Stiles brought his head up, "Did you feel that?"

Malia's eyes brightened, "Yeah, in my fingers just barely." Stiles took her hand in his own and ran his finger along her palm.

"Can you feel this?" he asked.

Malia blinked and nodded.

"Try squeezing my hand." He said. Malia shut her eyes focusing hard, she managed to curl one of her fingers around his and squeezed it faintly. Stiles smiled.

"You did it. Keep going." Malia managed to unlock each of her fingers in her right hand and curl them around his.

Malia shivered slightly, "You're hands are warm."

Stiles squeezed her right hand before he took her hold of her left and started massaging her fingers, his hands working up her arms and into her shoulders. Eventually she got enough feeling in her upper body to sit up. Stiles worked his hands along her legs and calves until she could wiggle her toes.

Malia turned her upper body bracing her hand on his Stiles' shoulder. "I want to stand." Stiles nodded and helped her to her feet.

Her legs gave out slightly, "Whoa,"Stiles exclaimed catching her around the middle and hugging her to himself, "Easy there." Stiles held her close until her feet became steady. Then he helped her take measured steps until she could stand on her own.

Stiles pushed the curtain out of her way and Malia walked though it on her own speed. Finding their friends sitting around on the stage waiting for them, she grinned. They all jumped up crowding around Stiles and Malia.

"There's our girl." Lydia said fondly, hooking her arm through Malia's.

"C'mon," Malia said tossing her head toward the school doors. "Let's get this over with."

"That's the spirit." Lydia beamed. The pack left the stage and marched out into the hallway together. As the moved toward the closed classroom door some of the joy went out of Malia's step. Her hand hesitated on the doorknob, but the choice was ripped from her when it suddenly swung open revealing a red-faced Coach Finstock.

"Why, am I not surprised at finding all of you together?" he said glowering at them. He stepped out of the doorway and made a sweeping gesture, "No. Please come in you're only half an hour late." He growled.

"I didn't think you taught math, Coach." Stiles said surprised as the group made their way to their cluster of vacant seats.

"Well, you thought wrong, Stilinski! If you and you're friends ever bothered to show up on time you'd know why I'm subbing today."

They sat and flipped their notebooks open. Coach Finstock went back to his board his eyes landing on his first victim.

"Malia, since you obviously think you can afford to be late for class, then you are going to be my first volunteer." Malia sunk a little lower into her chair. From behind her Stiles slipped his foot underneath her desk and brushed his foot softly against hers. _You never walk alone._

Malia looked up and around finding herself encircled by her friends, their eyes sympathetic and encouraging.

Malia flipped open her textbook and met Finstock square in the eyes. "OK, Coach. Hit me with your best shot."

-Chapter 3 Complete-

 **Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to my best friend and Savior my Lord Jesus Christ. Who taught me that though life is tough I never have to walk alone. Happy Easter my friends and fellow writers MAY YOU NEVER WALK ALONE.**


	4. Epilogue: To Save a Life

Beacon Hills, 2019

Eight years after graduation.

It was a warm summer night in Beacon Hills and the Jeep was parked off the side of the road near the railway tracks. Stiles bit into the edge of a roll of duct tape tearing off a strip with his teeth. A freight train bellowed in the distance, its long clear blast shuddering through town. Stiles leaned under the hood fastening the last strip of duct tape to the engine. Flicking his flashlight over his work he nodded to himself before dropping the hood.

Coming around the driver's side door Stiles tossed the duct tape under the seat. Stripping off his grease stained plaid shirt he wiped his fingers on it, before bunching it up and flinging it into the back seat. He shrugged back on his Sheriff's Deputy uniform shirt leaving it unbuttoned over his white undershirt. Sliding into the driver's seat he started up the C-J5 and rolled over the tracks and into the Old Railway District.

Out of the corner of his eye Stiles caught sight of the lights of the high school. As the streetlights flared against his windshield he found himself thinking about all the things he and the pack had been through since graduation. Senior year was hard on all of them with Theo and the dread doctors being the least of their troubles, but they managed to survive high school as a pack.

After everything they had endured in high school they were determined to stick together. Malia accepted a track scholarship and attended USF with Scott, Kira and Stiles while Lydia studied at Stanford. They all roomed together in a dilapidated old frat house they rented from the defunct _Beta Omega Rho_ Fraternity on the USF campus. It was a hulking Victorian era monstrosity with cracked windows and missing floorboards. It had leaky pipes, peeling paint, an unreliable supply of hot water and it occasionally felt unsteady in the wind. Despite its severe drawbacks they had a lot of fun in the rickety house that they affectionately named ' _Oldcastle_.'

Stiles and Scott were known to practice their skateboarding tricks down the decrepit staircase. And freshman year they may or may not have blown up the cellar in a chemistry experiment that took a few wrong turns. Malia, Lydia and Kira who had claimed the upper floor for their rooms spent a great deal of their time scaling up to the roof of _Oldcastle._ They would sit up there for hours studying, painting their nails, sunning themselves or just talking.

On weekends between their course work and jobs Malia and Stiles would work on fixing the old place up. Together they patched the holes in the front porch, replaced a few cracked window panes and re-shingled the roof that first year. The others pitched in helping where they could but Malia and Stiles spearheaded the project. Scott would always tease them about how everything they 'fixed' always ended up slanting at odd angles. Malia would just roll her eyes and tell him to do it himself next time.

When the radiator busted on the CJ-5 Malia dragged Stiles around to five different salvage yards. Eventually they found exactly what they needed at Tucker's Auto Salvage and Repair. When Mr. Tucker a surly ex-navy mechanic heard that Malia was planning on replacing the part herself he mistook her for inexperienced. Tucker bet her ten bucks that she wouldn't be able to install the radiator herself. Malia won that bet and Tucker's respect and he offered her a job. She put herself through college working as a mechanic for him and Tucker taught her everything he knew.

In the heart of Tucker's salvage yard Malia found the guts and frame of a 1968 Chevy Camaro Z/28. Her dad and the pack all pitched in and bought it for her twentieth birthday. Malia set it up on blocks in _Oldcastle's_ little whitewashed garage. Little by little she worked away at it bringing that old car back to life. Malia had to work harder than anyone in college and it helped to have a project to take her frustration out on.

The walls of Tucker's shop were covered in old photographs. They were pictures of his time in the navy, of him and his buddies backpacking through Europe, of his wife and kids and portraits of each car he had ever restored. When Malia was floundering in sophomore year grasping for a faculty and a major those old pictures inspired her. She graduated from UCSF with honours and a Photojournalism degree.

Stiles worked a bunch of odd jobs before landing one with the District Attorney's Office as an Investigator's assistant. He worked under Joe Garrity a hard-nosed detective who taught Stiles how to bend a lot of rules. Garrity made Stiles earn every inch of respect that he ever gave him. He spent his first year working for Garrity verifying facts, sifting through dumpsters, writing up reports, answering phones and alphabetizing files. He didn't stop at that though. On his own time Stiles did surveillance, made calls and examined evidence. With all of that he spent a lot of his sophomore falling asleep in class.

Joe eventually respected Stiles for taking initiative and took him under his wing. Garrity taught Stiles to drink his coffee black, how to pick a deadbolt, to throw a mean right hook, and how to handle a gun. Joe who was a former SFPD detective and he had Stiles seriously thinking about joining the SFPD after he finished his criminology degree.

But instead something pretty unexpected happened. One weekend when Stiles dropped by his dad's house he found Melissa McCall kissing his dad at the kitchen table. Apparently the two parents suffering from empty nest syndrome had been spending a lot more time together. They had started seeing each other and had sort of shacked up without telling anyone. Stiles and Scott had been understandably freaked out by the shacked up part, but were glad their parents were happy. Stiles already loved Melissa like a mother anyway so it felt like a natural transition. Scott and Stiles had pestered John endlessly to propose so they could officially be brothers.

John and Melissa were married during Stiles and Scott's junior year of college but that wasn't really the surprising part. What was surprising was when Melissa announced after the wedding that she was pregnant with a baby girl.

Rory Delgado Stilinski came into the world to a loving father and mother and two over-protective big brothers. Stiles and Scott had always loved each other as brothers but the day Rory was born they truly became them, united in the promise to always look out for their baby sister. Rory was three now and Scott and Stiles still playfully fought for her attention.

Stiles graduated top of his class from the San Francisco Police Academy. But he decided to take a job with the Beacon County Sheriff's Department instead so he could be closer to Rory while she's growing up. It's good working for his dad, though there are challenges that come with it. His dad can't appear to be doing Stiles any favours so he has to work twice as hard as the other deputies.

Stiles also can't turn off his natural curiosity and his obsession has gotten him into more than a few tight spots. After he got into an off-duty fistfight with a sheriff's investigator who was critically mishandling a case. His dad had tossed him into the K-9 unit to keep him out of trouble. Stiles turned out to be really good with the dogs and he enjoyed working in the unit. His position also made it easier to get a lot of police work done with less oversight. His dad also stuck him on two rotations in the archives a month. Stiles passes the time working on cold cases under the table.

Like all the other deputies the rest of his time is divided between desk duty and patrol. Stiles suffers through desk duty and but he has a lot of fun with patrol. He's gotten into a bad habit of pulling over Coach Finstock, Isaac, Jackson, Cora and Derek Hale just because he can.

At twenty-five Stiles has been on the job for almost three years and is eligible to challenge the Sheriff's Detective exam in six weeks. He already has his detective's manual memorized and he keeps it in the glove box of his Jeep.

Stiles cruised past the Animal Clinic smirking to himself at the tarp covering the overhead sign. Scott was graduating from UC Davis in two weeks and Deaton had offered him a position at his practice. The old sign was being replaced with one that now included, _Dr. Scott McCall, DVM._

Stiles was proud of his best friend who had managed to juggle his course load and three jobs even with the supernatural world constantly knocking at his door.

His phone buzzed raddling against the cup holder. Stiles paused at the red light and flicked open the message.

 _It's done._

Derek Hale's short and cryptic text message made him nervous. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to pull this off. He shook off the feeling dropping his phone back in the cup holder. He gripped the wheel tighter in his hand waiting for the green light. When it flashed overhead Stiles took his foot of the brake and bared to the right.

Then there was Malia and him, they had been together on and off for the last eight years. They had broken up a total of six times in their relationship, including twice in high school. The longest they had stayed together had been three years. They longest they managed to stay apart had been a year. Even through all their breakups they managed to keep their friendship alive. Even living together as roommates at _Oldcastle_ through a few of them.

But neither of them were very good at moving on. Stiles dated a few girls in college in between breakups with Malia. But the intensity that still crackled between him and Malia always drove them off in the end. Malia went on her fair share of dates in college but nothing to serious. After getting her degree she started dating a guy and it got pretty serious. His name was Cale Corban and he was perfect for Malia in every way. It drove Stiles crazy.

There had always been something left unresolved between Lydia and Stiles. After Malia and Cale had been dating for five months Stiles impulsively kissed Lydia at a party. They started dating soon after but it ended before it ever really began. Lydia Martin was nobody's second choice and she knew just from the way Stiles still looked at Malia that he wasn't over her. She broke things off with him admitting that they had missed their chance at whatever could have been between them. Then she kicked him in the ass telling him to fight for Malia. Stiles was grateful that they could still be friends despite everything.

And he took her advice.

Stiles pulled up to an old refurbished firehouse its blazing neon letters spelling out _Tate's Garage._ He hit a button on his visor and the garage door rolled up. Stiles eased the Jeep into the garage and parked beside Malia's fully restored Camaro Z/28. Stiles slammed the Jeep door and pocketed his keys. A black dog who had been lazing on the old green couch in Malia's office bounded off the couch barking excitedly. The dog circled Stiles thumping his big black tail.

Stiles hugged the happy German shepherd's neck. "Hey, Obi. How're you buddy?"

Obi barked in reply and nudged his face into Stiles' hand. Stiles scratched Obi behind the ears. He rubbed a gentle hand along a white scar that ran along Obi's left side. Obi was a three year-old retired Beacon County Sheriff's dog. He'd been the first dog Stiles had worked with when he'd been reassigned to the K-9 unit. He'd taken a knife for Stiles a year ago and per department policy he had been retired. Stiles had insisted on adopting him. Obi now spends his days at _Tate's Garage_ lounging on that old couch and being adored by customers. Malia always takes him for a run on her lunch break.

Since retirement he seems to have forgotten all of his training. He hardly listens to Stiles anymore but dutifully obeys Malia. He's sort of become Malia's dog in many ways. Whether it's because of her coyote magnetism or just her personality he can hardly fault Obi for falling in love with her too.

"Where's our girl, huh?" he asks Obi as he ruffles his neck. "C'mon." He beckons softly as he walks further into the garage. There are half dismantled vehicles neatly arranged throughout the shop with gleaming tool chests bordering the work areas. An old jukebox lit up the main wall it filled the shop with a near constant cadence of classic rock. The walls were covered in framed photographs and newspaper clippings.

Some of the clippings were from National Geographic, the Washington Post and the New York Times. They were all photographs Malia had published in the last four years. Since graduation she had been traveling extensively freelancing her work and working a few contract jobs for National Geographic. With the money she earned she was able to open Tate's Garage last year.

The framed photographs were an assortment of pictures Malia had taken and photographs of her life and adventures. As he came to the stairs leading up to the loft he stopped examining one of them. It was a picture of the Tate family gathered around a Chevy Firebird. A nine year-old Malia is hugging her baby sister tightly with their parents on either side of them.

As he climbed the stairs his eyes catch sight of a more recent picture that was easily his favourite. It was of Malia sitting in her parked Camaro with a two year-old Rory in her lap. Rory is playing with the steering wheel pretending to drive, while Malia is watching her keeping an arm around the little girl's middle. He smirks enjoying the picture for a moment, until Obi noses past him and pushes through the door leading to the loft. Stiles follows after the dog.

Coming through the doorway Stiles stubs his foot on Malia's scuffed motorcycle boots. Shaking his head he nudges them out of his way. The loft apartment is open and airy with three large windows. A bookshelf is built into one of the walls. It's lined floor to ceiling with books, vinyl records and trinkets from Malia's travels.

Malia loves live music. The leather-bound journals that line her bookshelf are filled with her photographs, plane tickets, wristbands and concert tickets. One shelf holds an arsenal of professional cameras. The living room table is a mess of film canisters, gears and small tools and a half disassembled camera. In the far corner there is an old fireman's pole that's still in good condition they use it to slide down to the main floor all the time.

Obi was sunk down by the doorway that led to Malia's darkroom where she developed her film. Stiles crossed to the door rapping his knuckles on it softly.

"Malia?" he calls. "You in there?"

"Hey, Stiles." Her reply comes muffled through the door. "I'm just going to need another ten minutes in here or I'll ruin these shots." Malia explained.

"No rush. I've gotta change before we head out anyway." Stiles says shifting off the door, moving further into the loft as he shrugs off his uniform shirt.

At the heart of the loft there is an old wood stove. When Malia had bought the place it had been too heavy and awkward to maneuver down the stairs. So she repainted it and replaced the rusted front with a glass door. They spent so many nights by the fire now that the couch ended up angled towards it. Two tightly packed hiking backpacks were leaning against the couch and Stiles had to dodge around them on route to the closet.

The wall opposite the bookshelf was coated in chalkboard paint. Malia had painted it for him because he always ran out of room on his evidence board. So she made him an evidence wall. It was currently covered in three investigation webs. Two cold cases from the archives and one for the pack. His low-key position at the Sheriff's department made gathering police information for pack investigations a whole lot easier and it made desk duty a whole lot more fun. Against the wall was a rustic desk and chair and on it there were stacks of photographs and piles of paperwork. Stiles stared at the wall for a moment his hand reaching for the chalk as he drew a line circling a new connection. Then he stepped back from the wall, wiping his hands on his jeans, dropping the chalk back on his desk.

 _Don't get distracted. Stick to the plan, Stiles._

Stiles crosses to the windows dropping his shirt in the hamper by the bed. He grabbed a red and blue plaid shirt out from the closet and tugging it on. After buttoning it up he dropped down on the bed and kicks off his shoes in favour of tugging on his sturdy hiking boots. As he is tying up the laces he notices traces of grease on his hands and beneath his fingernails. His eyes shoot to the closed darkroom door and he makes his way hastily to the bathroom sink. Lathering up his hands he tries to wash away the evidence as best he can.

Stiles hears Malia's footsteps behind the door and he tenses. Drying his hands roughly on a hand towel his eyes scour the room for a quick escape. His eyes land on their backpacks and he gets an idea.

"I'm just gonna go throw our stuff in the Jeep. Where's the rest of our gear?"

"I already packed the camping gear in the Camaro." Malia said through the door. Stiles shakes his head at her though she can't even see it.

 _No. The plan won't work without the Jeep._

"We're not taking the Camaro." He argues. "You finish up. I'll pack the Jeep."

"What? Wait why aren't we taking the Camaro? Stiles?" she calls after him. Stiles ignored her grabbing their bags and jogging down the stairs. Obi following behind him.

Stiles drops the backpacks down by jeep then he opens the liftgate and drops the tailgate. Popping the Camaro's trunk he starts repacking the camping stove, tents and coolers in the Jeep.

Originally this had been _their_ camping trip but it sort of got taken over by the local youth drop-in center. Malia had been roped into volunteering there back in college. They had asked her to teach an auto shop class for new drivers. Malia reluctantly agreed but had ended up falling in love with mentoring teenagers. Now she volunteers there weekly teaching auto shop and dance.

She enjoyed it so much she even got the rest of the pack involved. Lydia started volunteering with her while she was still finishing her Ph.D. in psychology. Now Lydia volunteers as head of their counseling department. Kira teaches Jiu Jitsu classes and helps run the tutoring program. Scott and Stiles started a lacrosse program where Stiles bought a whistle and does everything possible to imitate Coach Finstock.

Malia's latest contribution to the drop-in center is running a wilderness survival program. It was so popular they had to run it twice to make it available to all the kids. So that's how their camping trip suddenly became a youth event. Stiles couldn't bring himself to be too upset about it though. He probably would never admit it out loud but he really enjoyed working with the kids at the drop-in center. Everyone always felt like they belonged when they were there and for teenagers who feel like misfits that's a pretty powerful thing. He liked being a part of that. He knew how much his high school years would have sucked without his friends.

The drop-in also gave the pack a unique way to find and help out troubled supernatural teenagers. And this being Beacon Hills there was no shortage of them. He and Malia were heading out to Big Basin State Park tonight to set up their campsite. They would have a whole day to themselves before the kids arrive on Saturday.

Obi hopped into the back of the Jeep thumping his big black tail. In his enthusiasm displacing some of the luggage sending it tumbling out of the back of the Jeep.

Stiles shook his head picking up the fallen bag, "Don't worry, buddy. We'd never leave you behind." He assures the dog as starts toward the Camaro intent on getting the last bag.

Stiles hears the familiar squeal of metal as Malia slides down the fireman's pole and her feet hitting the pavement. Stiles comes around the front of the Camaro. She's wearing a short-sleeve navy blue work shirt with an embroidered name patch, ripped jeans and scuffed biker boots. There's a delicate tattoo of a compass rose on her forearm. Her long hair was tied in a ponytail and swept over one shoulder. Her one piece of jewelry is the tarnished St. Jude's medal around her neck. _She's so Beautiful._

She stays there for a moment resting her hand against the pole looking at him beneath her lashes. Malia always could make him nervous in the best possible way. As she started towards him he felt his pulse spike and from the crooked grin she had on her face there was no way she hadn't heard it.

Malia crossed the distance between them, pulling him in by the collar of his shirt, kissing him thoroughly. His breath caught in his throat. As Malia kissed him he lost track of his carefully thought out plan. Stiles smirked against her lips winding his arms around her middle and kissing her back hungrily. She pushed him against the Camaro and he distantly heard the clang of a wrench as it impacted the pavement. Spinning around he hoisted Malia up setting her on the hood of the Camaro. Malia wound her arms around his neck running her fingers through his hair before pulling back.

She grinned nuzzling his nose, "Hello, deputy." She whispered a little breathless.

"Hi," he whispered back before kissing her again this one was soft and sweet. When he pulled back she kept her eyes closed for a few seconds longer than necessary. He smirked feeling proud of himself. He unconsciously rocks forward to kiss her again when her caramel coloured eyes fluttered open. She presses her thumb to his lips, before he can kiss her. Stiles pulls back to look at her.

"So…are you going to tell me what's up?" she asks without preamble. _Stupid chemo signals._

"I not sure what you mean." Stiles felt the skin prickling at the back of his neck.

"You've been acting weird all week. But today your heartbeat is all over the place." Malia told him pointedly.

"My heartbeat is all over the place whenever we're in the same room." Stiles countered with a disarming smile. But Malia shook her head.

"I know the difference between that and whatever this is." She rebuffed. "Does this have something to with why Derek called me today?"

"Malia it's nothing—Derek called you—when?" Stiles tumbled over his words. Malia eyed him suspiciously.

"Yeah, apparently you pulled him over today, again." Stiles felt his shoulders slump with relief.

"Yeah, I kinda did." He smirked.

"Well he ranted to me about it. He wanted to know what I see in a guy like you."

"What did you tell him?" Stiles asked curious.

"That I'd try to get you to stop pulling him over."

"No. The part about what you see in a guy like me."

"Oh. I told him it was none of his business."

"Of course you did." Stiles grumbled.

Her eyes shot toward the Jeep and Stiles followed her gaze and felt his heart jolt again.

"There it is again." She told him her eyes locking with his. "What is going on with you?"

Stiles smoothed his hands down Malia's arms. "Look you're right something is up with me," he admitted, "But can we just get in the Jeep and drive out to Big Basin? I'm going to explain everything on the way."

"Alright." She says reading his sincerity. She seizes her backpack from the garage floor and carries it around the back of the Jeep. Stiles follows her watching as she tosses it in the back. He tucks his bag in beside hers. He doesn't need to be able to smell chemo signals or hear a heartbeat to know she feels hurt and confused right now. It makes Stiles feel about three inches tall to know he's responsible for that _. Just a few more hours._

Stiles lifts the tailgate and Malia's hand touches his wrist where it rest on the metal.

"You never have to be scared to tell me anything. You know that right?" she tells him. Stiles feels his heart swell and feels that familiar rush of emotions again. The same feeling she's stirred up in him ever since they were seventeen.

"Yeah. I know that. I'm not scared…just nervous." He replies his voice a rough whisper.

"Well don't be." She tells him over her shoulder. She grabs the passenger side door and tugs it open, whistling for Obi. The dog dutifully bounds into the Jeep. "Are you going to tell me why we can't take the Camaro?"

Stiles shakes his head smirking, "Nope." Malia rolls her eyes at him. She ducks inside the cab and turns the keys and the radio clicks on. Stiles feels his blood run cold as he hears the creak of the hood opening. He jogs around the side of the Jeep just in time to catch Malia around the middle before she ducks under the hood.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa what are you doing?" he asks steering her away from the front of the Jeep.

"I'm checking the oil." She says confused.

"I already did the pre-road inspection. You don't have to worry about it." Malia shrugs off his arm.

"OK. But I'm the mechanic and I'm telling you something smells off under there. It's weird I can't place it. It's like something plastic like…" Malia's eyes narrow at him, "Duct tape."

Stiles stiffens and Malia slides past him and leans under the hood Stiles follows behind her rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Hah! Duct tape I knew it." She crows triumphantly, "No wonder you were nervous. We have a rule about this. No duct tape on the Jeep _ever._ " She stresses.

"Malia, wait I can…" Malia rips the duct tape off before he can stop her and there is a tiny metal _ping…ping…ping_ as a small metal piece tumbles off the Jeep. It rolls across the garage floor and collides with Malia's scuffed boot. It raddled as it settles on the grease stained floor. Stiles hears Malia's breathing hitch as it gleams when the light catches it. She slowly bends down and retrieves the simple art deco ring.

"I was going to fake a stall at Big Basin and pull over to the side of the road by the waterfall…the one you always make us stop at." Malia's eyes shot to him. He was kneeling in front of the headlights. He's managed to do it without her noticing. "I figured you'd pull the tape off and it would be easy from there."

Malia's leaned back against the Jeep her eyes fixed on the ring, her breathing ragged.

Her eyes shoot to his, "This isn't you overreacting to me asking you to move in is it?"

"No," he chuckles. "This isn't me overreacting." Reaching into his pocket he pulled out an old cassette tape with faded writing. "A long time ago you asked me to keep this for you." He says as he looks up into her eyes. "That's the first time I knew you loved me when you trusted me with this." He tells her. "That was my mom's engagement ring," he says pointing to her hand. "I was hoping you would keep it for me."

Malia was very still as she leaned against the Jeep her hand clutching the embossed white gold ring in her fist. But her eyes weren't locked on the rounded square cut diamond they looked beyond it as if she was caught up in a memory.

"You never let go of my hand." She finally whispers. "That first time in Eichen House you never let go of my hand." She repeats. "I think about that all the time. You're the first person I ever told about the accident. The first boy I ever kissed." Malia whispers her eyes meeting his. "That's what I was thinking about when Derek asked me what kind of man you are."

They watch each other for the longest moment. Then Malia smiles at him and slips the engagement ring on her finger.

"Get up here," she commands softly, as she leans off the car, reaching out pulling him to his feet and into her arms. They hang onto each other desperately. Stiles can feel a few teardrops against his neck and pulls away slightly. He brushes her tears off her cheeks with the cuff of his sleeve.

Tilting her chin, he gets her to meet his eyes, "I love you." He tells her. Malia surges forward kissing him.

"I love you, too." She says against his lips. It's not the first time she's said it. She tells him pretty much every day but she rarely says it with words. So he's pretty helpless whenever he hears her say those words. He twirls her around in front of the Jeep. Malia whispers something in his ear before leaning in to kiss him.

Stiles grins scooping her up in his arms and kicking a tool box out of his way. Malia laughs and kisses him as he carries her up the stairs. Malia nipped at his lips in a thoroughly distracting way and it made him catch his foot on a stair. He stumbled forwards sprawling them both on the stairs. Malia chuckled against his throat her arms still around him. "The stairs? How romantic." She teases. Stiles groans lifting his head giving her a dirty look.

"Your fault, smartass." Stiles answers back. Kissing her soundly to show her two can play at that game. She's a little breathless when they break apart and Stiles is feeling pretty smug about it.

"Wanna try that again?" she says tilting her head toward the top of the stairs. "I'll go easy on you this time." Malia promises running her fingers across his cheek. Stiles nuzzles her hand and starts to climb to his feet. He stills when he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. It started blaring an old western theme which Malia programmed for him after he'd become a deputy. He reached for it trying to switch it off when he saw it was Scott calling. Scott knew his plan for tonight so he shouldn't be calling unless there was some sort of catastrophe. He answered the phone switching it to speaker and tossing it up on the stair above them. Then he leans down brushing his lips lightly against Malia's.

"Hey buddy, what's up? I thought I said I was busy tonight."

"Seriously, just propose already. I mean you've been trying to do this for months."

Malia raises an eyebrow mouthing the word _'months'_ to him.

"Only because every time I try, you're interrupting us." Stiles replies annoyed.

Malia grins up at him and turning her face she leans toward the phone, "Hi, Scott."

"Oh. Sorry, Malia." Scott apologizes. "Look we've got a big problem."

"OK. What's going on?" Stiles asks concern sobering his voice.

"We're outside. It might be better if we show you." Scott explains.

"OK. Scott. We'll be right there." Malia assures him as she hangs up the phone.

Stiles drops his face into Malia's neck and groans. "I'm sorry. Worst. Proposal. Ever."

"Hey," she said tugging on his shirt so he would look at her "The guy I love just asked me to marry him. If you think I need more than that then you don't know me very well."

"Yeah, but it doesn't mean I don't want you to have more." Stiles asserts.

"Oh, I plan on it." She said mischievously, "When you're friend isn't within five hundred feet of us." She laughed at the colour Stiles turned before sliding out from under him and offering him a hand up.

Stiles took her offered hand and sprang to his feet. The cool kiss of the ring on her hand beneath his fingers was an indescribable feeling. It kind of knocked him off-balance how good it felt to have his ring on her finger. A lock of hair fell over Malia's forehead as she brushed it out of her eyes her unbuttoned work shirt slipped off her shoulder slightly. Beneath the strap of her tank top he could make out the edge of a small raised white scar.

Malia nudged him gently, "Stiles? You OK?" He blinked and realized he'd been staring.

Stiles nodded, "Yeah," he whispered roughly. He reached out and drew his thumb along the scar lightly. Malia shivered as he did so. Stiles knew every scar on her skin, each of them were from her childhood, from before she first turned. All of them except for this one. Stiles frowned as he caressed it. He blamed himself for this scar. Malia pressed her hand to his chest and looked up at him her eyes full of concern.

"Hey, what's going on in your head?" she asked. Stiles pulled his hand away and gently tugged her shirt back onto her shoulder.

Stiles stared down at their entwined fingers, "Nothing I just…" he ran a hand through his hair "I wanted to say thank you."

Malia cocked her head to the side, raising her eyebrow, "For what?" she asked confused.

"For…" Stiles gestured a hand vaguely between them failing to find the words. A sudden rush of memories played through his mind.

 _Malia punching him…the look in her eye before she stole her first kiss…Malia climbing through his bedroom window…her promising to never leave him behind...Malia stretched out on his bed with her textbook and highlighters…her shivering in his arms on the floor of the Hale vault…her walking away…Malia biting her lip as she admitted she liked him…a lot…them under the hood of the Jeep as she told him about Lindsay's favourite song…Malia slipping the mix-tape into his shirt pocket…them stretched out on the couch as Malia mumbled questions about Star Wars into his shirt…Malia pulling him into the street to dance with her a music festival…Malia grinning down at him from the roof of Oldcastle…the first time she told him she loved him…Malia scaling a fence saying they wouldn't get caught and taunting him to follow…Malia dancing with Rory around the garage…her with tears in her eyes shoving him away and walking out into the rain…the first time he saw her in another guy's sweater…an arrow in her chest and black blood spilling from her lips…Malia rolling him towards her and kissing him awake…the other night cuddling on the couch by the old wood stove, with the ring in his pocket and her asleep in his arms._

Stiles brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, "…for all of it. For everything that got me to this moment with you." Malia dropped her eyes biting her lip as she shook her head at him. When her eyes met his again he was overwhelmed by what he saw in them. Malia leaned into him sharing the same breath as him as she fisted her hand in his shirt.

Her lips a hairsbreadth away from his as she promised, "You ain't seen nothing yet, Stilinski." Stiles smirked brushing his nose along hers before leaning in to kiss her slow and deep. Malia braced his face in her hands easily matching his intensity. But they were interrupted by knocking at the garage door. Malia pulled back from him growling at the door and straightening his shirt.

"We'll finish this later, deputy." She promised him before turning toward the obnoxious knocking. Stiles grinned boyishly shoving his hands in his pockets as he watched her cross the floor.

Malia threw the latch on the deadbolt then stopped, hastily tugging the ring off and slipping it into the pocket of her washed out jeans. Stiles already missed the sight of it on her hand, but he got her point. She wanted this to be theirs for a moment before it became everyone else's. With the ring safely stored away she pulled the door open wide.

Scott rushed through the doorway with an armful of rolled papers, a majority of the pack following close behind. Obi barked and thumped his tail, weaving through Scott, Kira, Lydia, Mason, Liam and Hayden. Scott met Stiles at the hood of the Jeep and passed him the armful of papers.

"We've got big problems." Scott told him as he grabbed one of the rolls of paper and unfurled it on the hood of the Jeep. He smoothed out the map and searched it with a serious expression.

"You're gonna need to be more specific." Stiles said, as he looked over Scott's shoulder and found him reading a map of telluric currents. The rest of the pack gathered around the hood.

Lydia drew up beside Scott, "One of the kids I've been counseling at the drop-in, Emily. She thinks she being followed…well tracked might be the better word for it." Lydia explained. Scott was still searching for something on the map.

Malia crossed her arms, "Tracked? By what?" she asked.

"You know the blackouts we've been having the last few days?" Lydia asked.

"Yeah, the A/C in the shop has been out pretty much all week because of it." Malia muttered.

"Deaton thinks she's being tracked by a Black Dog." Lydia told them. Stiles felt his blood run cold and his eyes instantly shot to Malia. They had a run in with a Black Dog their sophomore year of college and it hadn't ended well.

"What's a Black Dog?" Liam asked reading the exchange between Stiles and Malia. Scott looked up from the map.

"It's what happens when an evolved werewolf goes feral." Scott replied with a grim expression.

"What does that have to do with the blackouts?" Hayden asked.

"Black Dogs travel through telluric currents, they are mostly sighted near thunderstorms. Some of the writings in the bestiary even claim some of them can manifest electricity." Kira replied.

Liam shifted his feet, "This is bad."

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose, "You don't know the half of it." he cautions, dropping his hand and meeting Liam's eyes. "They can appear and disappear, pass through walls, they can make you hallucinate. And here's the best part they don't give off a scent."

"So how do we even find this thing?" Mason asks.

"I'm working on it." Scott said through the pen clenched in his teeth as he scoured the map. Stiles looked over his best friend's shoulder again his eyes trailing over map of telluric currents. When his eyes found a convergence of currents near the Foundry Bridge.

It was an old abandoned railway swing bridge set up on stone pillars. It was built back when Beacon Hills had been nothing more than a railway station and the iron foundry. It had had fallen away from the shore. Its weathered remains now rose up eerily from the depths of the river. Abandoned by the county, it was left to loom over the murky water collecting graffiti and rust.

"The currents converge here, near the Foundry Bridge." Stiles told Scott tapping the map. "A call came in over the radio this morning about trespassing down by the river." He pulled out his phone and scrolled through it landing on a picture, offering it to Scott. The picture showed a metal _No Trespassing_ sign bent in half and the pole twisted at a strange angle. "It just looked like some kids had been messing around, but now I think it's something more."

"Like what?" Liam asked.

"Like a Black Dog marking its territory." Stiles replied, rubbing his forehead.

"I don't understand what would a Black Dog want with that old bridge?" Mason asked.

"They are drawn to the energy of certain places. Particularly bridges, graveyards, crossroads, and footpaths." Lydia replied.

"What we need to worry about is if this thing is marking out a territory." Malia interjected, "If you cross a Black Dog's territory they will stalk you to the ends of the earth."

"That's what I was afraid of," Lydia rasped. "I'm worried for Emily."

"Where is she now?" Malia asked

"She's with Jordan and Argent at my place." Lydia said.

"Right so what's the plan?" Liam asked.

"We check out the Foundry Bridge, carefully." Stiles insisted.

"How did you deal with the Black Dog last time?" Mason asked.

"We were lucky." Scott stressed. Stiles nodded in agreement.

"We're gonna need the two-way radios, turpentine and a whole lot of salt." Stiles decided. Malia pulled her keychain from her pocket and plucked out a small brass key.

"Yeah, I'm already on it." she said over her shoulder as she moved with a purpose towards her office. Stiles looked up from the map his eyes trailing after her. He shot Scott and Lydia a look.

"I'm gonna go help her. I'll be right back." He said as he shifted away from the Jeep and followed after her. Stiles leaned into the office and already found Malia elbow deep into the storage locker. She was tossing a set of radios into an unzipped black duffle bag at her feet. Stiles stole into the room coming up beside her as she maneuvered through their little armory. He reached above her head and grabbed a box of salt tossing it into the bag. Malia shifted her weight reaching up to grasp a roadside flare. Her fingers brushed it but couldn't grasp it. Stiles took it down from the shelf and pressed it into her hand.

"Thanks," Malia whispered, as she dropped it into the bag. "I think you should bring the 12-gauge and some mountain ash rounds." she suggested.

"You sure?" he asked surprised. Malia didn't like being around guns, even if it was him using them.

"If we're going up against a Black Dog then we're gonna need the stopping power." Malia insisted. Stiles couldn't argue with her there. He pulled out the gun and set it aside and took down a box of shot gun shells that Argent had made for him. He put his hands on his hips and inspected his girlfriend—fiancé. She looked nervous. This was not at all how he imagined this night going. With a smirk he decided exactly how to get her out of this dark mood.

"Hey, could you pass me the duct tape." He asked as innocently as possible. Malia turned holding a jug of turpentine and scowled at him.

"We're not bringing duct tape." she snapped, as she set the jug down.

"What if we need it?" he asked as he reached towards it. Malia intercepted him and rolled the duct tape further into the shelf just out of his grasp.

"We won't need it." she dismissed.

"We might." he insisted as he pressed up against her back and reached past her for it. Malia lithely seized the duct tape and quickly spun out of his grasp.

"We won't." she countered. Stiles stepped toward her but she dodged around him. Her eyebrows raising in a playful challenge.

Stiles bit his cheek, restraining a smirk, "C'mon just hand it over." he taunted. She shook her head and dodged away from him. He mirrored her movements his eyes tracking over her with purpose. He managed to hook his foot around hers and catch her, drawing her close to him. It was a loose hold one she could easily break from but from the playful look in her eyes he knew she wouldn't. Stiles ducked his head laying teasing kisses against the skin of her neck. Malia threw her head back laughing trying to squirming away from him.

"You had enough?" he said against her throat goading her on.

"Never." She said with conviction. Stiles abruptly found himself pinned to the storage locker door with his arms above his head.

"Gotcha," she whispered, grinning at him wolfishly. Stiles tilted his head towards her brushing his lips against hers.

"You've got no idea." he replied.

"You drive me crazy," she mumbled against his lips as she kissed him, releasing her hold on his arms. Then she pushed the roll of duct tape into his chest with force. Stiles choked on his own laughter at the force of the impact. Malia started to lean away from him, when Stiles caught her wrist.

He drew his thumb over her pulse point and whispered, "I wish we were camping right now."

Malia squeezed his fingers in response, rocking back into his space for a fraction of second, "Me too." she replied. Then she artfully dodged his lips and stepped around him. "But right now we've got work to do." Stiles sighed and followed her lead packing up what they needed from the armory.

When they were done he ducked down and zipped up the duffle bag. When he straightened he found her fumbling with the clasp of her necklace. He watched her curiously for a moment before he saw her reach into her back pocket and retrieve the engagement ring. She slipped it onto the gold chain and drew it back around her neck. Stiles stepped up behind her brushing her hair off her neck his hands covering hers as he hooked the clasp closed her. He lingered there for a moment brushing his thumb along the back of her neck.

"You ready?" he asked. Malia nodded bending down to grab the bag. Just as Scott and Lydia came through the doorway of the office.

"Argent is going to meet us at the—" Scott started to tell them before Lydia interjected.

"—is that a ring? You asked her!" she exclaimed. Malia and Stiles shot each other a look and couldn't help blushing. Scott's serious expression broke out into a wide grin. He crossed the room grabbing Stiles and Malia in either arm and hugging them tight. Lydia was right behind him wrapping her arms around the pair of them the second Scott released them.

"I'm so happy for you guys," she whispered to her friends.

When she pulled back from them Scott raised a questioning eyebrow at Stiles, "I thought you were gonna do it at the waterfall." Stiles shrugged looking at Malia.

"That was the plan but she smelled the duct tape before I could even get her in the Jeep," Stiles explained. Scott rolled his eyes at Stiles.

"I warned him duct tape was a bad idea." Scott told Malia conspiratorially.

Malia smiled a secret smile directed at Stiles and shrugged, "I don't know I think it was kind of perfect." Stiles straightened up and met her eyes feeling a deeper pride than he'd ever felt before stirring in his chest. Scott clapped him on the shoulder a little too hard but even that couldn't pull his eyes from hers.

"So when did this all go down?" Scott asked.

"About eight minutes before you got here," Malia said in that nonchalant way of hers. Scott's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and Lydia smacked his arm for good measure.

"I told you we should have left them out of this tonight." Lydia reprimanded.

"Yeah, you were right. Sorry, guys." Scott said sheepishly.

"It's fine man." Stiles assured.

"I would have been pissed if you went after a Black Dog alone," Malia insisted. "We're a pack. And we handle things as a pack."

The four friends shared a meaningful look before Malia grabbed the duffle bag at her feet and slung it over her shoulder.

"C'mon guys, we've got a feral werewolf to track and a girl to save before sunrise." she said over her shoulder, "And the sooner we get it done the sooner I get to go camping."

Malia marched over to the back of the Jeep and tossed out one of the hiking backpacks and put their equipment in instead. She grabbed four sets of two-way radios and started dividing them among the pack.

The pack was gathered around the hood while Scott pointed out the Foundry Bridge on the map and started walking everyone through the plan. Stiles was caught up in the moment and looked at the people gathered around him, and down at Obi who was sitting on Stiles' foot thumping his tail on the concrete.

Stiles knew that he would always feel a piece of himself was missing because he had taken a life. What he had done to survive it would always be a part of him. But trying to save people that was how he pushed back against the darkness. How he reclaimed the piece of himself that Theo and the Nogitsune stole, even if it was only for a moment. There are a lot of different ways to save a life. But in his experience the most powerful way to save someone was to be a true friend. To sit with someone in their darkest hours. To believe in them when they couldn't believe in themselves. And when they are lost to stop at nothing to find them and bring them home.

Stiles watched the people who stood around the hood of the Jeep with him. Each of them had saved him in one way or another. And he had saved them.

Scott looked up from the map and turned to each of them, "OK. Everybody all set?"

Stiles nodded as he pulled Malia closer into his side with one arm and gripped Scott's shoulder with the other.

"Let's go save a life."

The End

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you everyone for sticking with me through this story and for all your wonderful comments and encouragement. This is my first completed story. YAY! I have left a lot a lot of Easter eggs in this epilogue for my follow up story "Nine Simple Rules" which will be coming soon. I am also writing a short "Bonus Scene" for this this story from Malia's P.O.V. I hope you like this ending. I know I left the Black Dog story up in the air. I just like endings that make you feel like the characters are still doing their "thing" even as they exit. All the best. Hurricane.


	5. Bonus Chapter: Capture the Light

Six Hours Later.

The moon was just a sliver in the sky and the stars were so clear. The headlights cut through the night ahead of them and they hadn't seen another car in the last twenty minutes. It was as if the rest of the world didn't exist. They were forty miles from the park entrance and the dashboard clock read 1:37 am. Malia had her window rolled down and was enjoying the feeling of the wind in her hair. The mix-tape warbled through the radio. Stiles drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on her knee. Malia absentmindedly played with his fingers enjoying the quiet drive with him. She could feel the warm weight of his eyes on her again. She bit her lip repressing a grin, keeping her eyes fixed on their entwined hands. They had been shooting each other smiles and lingering looks since they had started driving over an hour ago. It was like a game.

Malia drew the edge of her thumb along his knuckles softly. His hands were one of her major weaknesses. They were always so warm. When she had first been turned back to human she was freezing all the time. But it wasn't just the cold she was feeling…she felt numb. Her instincts were all mixed up. There were too many smells. Too many people in her space. Too many things she didn't know how to say. All of her repressed feelings were boiling over. She was like a wounded animal, always snarling and ready for a fight. One angry outburst at the mall and two thousand dollars of property damage later landed her in Eichen House.

They said it was a hospital. But Eichen House was just a whitewashed cage, nothing more. She had been locked up there for a month of _assessment_. Eichen reeked of industrial chemicals and she could barely hear herself think over the constant echoes. She paced the halls at night like a caged animal, plotting her escape.

She had been in the middle of gauging a weakness in the perimeter fence when this stupid boy had invaded her space... _so_ she had promptly knocked him out of it. Except it hadn't worked. He just got back up. Then somehow he talked her into helping him.

She had endured weeks of being analysed, group therapy sessions and listening to counselors spout psychobabble. And in all that time she had kept herself apart. Never really allowing herself to connect. But somehow in less than seventy-two hours Stiles had gotten to her.

She could blame it on simple attraction. But deep down she knew it wasn't the unruly dark hair and good-looks that got to her. It was the understanding in his eyes. He knew what it was like to have a monster lurking beneath his skin. To live in the fear that it was only a matter of time before it would claw its way out again. He understood what it was like to be a prisoner in his own body.

She hadn't really been touched in years. So when he took her hands in that dark basement it startled her. She was the feral girl found in the woods and she had done her best to make people keep their distance. Doctors, nurses, social workers and the other patients they knew better than to invade her space. They were afraid to touch her and that suited her just fine, she wasn't planning to stick around long anyway. Then he touched her and the heat from his hands skated up her spine and fanned out across her skin chasing away the numbness. And for the first time since she had been found she wanted to move closer to somebody. To lean in. To bury her face in the warmth he offered. So she stole a kiss. In the wild if you hesitate you will never catch your prey, and Malia always caught her prey.

When she pulled away she was satisfied to find a spark in his clever brown eyes. He asked if he could kiss her again, and then suddenly they were sharing the same space. Her hands were fisted in his shirt and his mouth was slanting against hers. The way his heart drummed against her palm had her feeling powerful in a way she had never really felt before.

It probably never should have happened. And the last place it should have happened was in the dank basement of a mental hospital, on that ratty old couch. But she didn't regret it. She would never regret anything to do with him.

Malia smiled to herself at the memory and brought his hand up to her mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of it. Stiles gave a huff of quiet laughter from beside her, but managed to keep his eyes on the road. Malia nuzzled the back of hand before releasing it. Stiles flexed his fingers before bringing his other hand back to the wheel. She could tell by the uptake in his heartbeat that his hand must be tingling. She grinned smugly. _Your move, Stilinski._

As the Jeep crested a hill they spotted a brightly lit twenty-four hour gas station. She watched him as his eyes darted to the fuel gauge.

"We should probably fill up." He said as he changed lanes and turned off the highway.

They rolled through the desolate parking lot and pulled up to the closet pump. Stiles cut the engine with a tired sigh and brought a hand up to knead at his shoulder. Malia stretched bringing her arms up over her head. The night air wafting through her window felt warm and silky against her skin. The parking lot lights hummed with electricity and crickets and frogs were singing in the ditch nearby.

"You need anything?" Stiles asked as he opened his door. Malia yawned shaking her head in reply as a cute little sound escaped from her. Stiles smirked at the noise as he reached out and playfully tapped her beneath her chin. Malia rolled her eyes at him. She refused to believe she was cute. Tough. Beautiful. Sweet. Those she could live with but Malia Tate was absolutely not _cute_.

His eyes were dancing with laughter as he shifted away. "I'll be back in five." But when he moved to slide out of the Jeep he stiffened and let out an involuntary hiss. Malia reached out to him, feeling the tension in the muscles of his shoulder.

"You're hurt." Malia accused running her hand along his stiff shoulder. Stiles groaned closing his eyes as he leaned into her touch like a big cat. Malia scooted closer to him and gently started massaging his shoulder. "Is this from falling in the river?" During the struggle with the Black Dog Stiles had been knocked off the Foundry Bridge.

"Uh-huh." Stiles grunted as she worked her hands along his sore shoulder.

"We should have stayed home." Malia said feeling guilty. Once they managed to capture the Black Dog and deliver it to Eichen House, she and Stiles had headed back to garage. After he had showered the river and turpentine from his skin, he had caught her staring longingly at her backpack.

It was already late and he must have been tired but he grinned shouldering her bag and grabbing his keys anyway. Last weekend when she had been swamped with work Stiles had gone ahead to purchase their camp permit and set up their campsite. So it didn't matter how late they got to the camp ground.

"Hey, it's nothing I just tweaked my shoulder." He insisted opening his eyes.

"No. You're hurt we should have iced your shoulder and gone to bed."

Stiles straightened in his seat, catching her eyes as he did so, "I wanted to be here with you." His eyes were unwavering and his heartbeat steady as he told her so. She scented the air, despite showering his scent was still saturated with turpentine. That must have been how she'd missed the subtle traces of pain and the tang of _blood_ in the air.

Malia's eyes trailed over him searching for injury. She reached out and brushed his unruly brown hair off of his forehead. She frowned finding a shallow cut in his hairline and dried blood.

She licked her thumb and wiped at the smudge of blood. "I should have checked you out better before we left."

"Well to be fair, you've been checking me out the whole way here." He teased flirtatiously.

"Yeah, but that wasn't for medical purposes." She argued as she pulled back, reaching under the seat grabbing the first aid kit. Spying the red bag in her hand Stiles shook his head.

"Malia, leave it. I'm fine."

"Stiles, it's just a band aid. It's not like I'm drawing blood." She said as she tore open an alcohol swab and reached out for his face.

Stiles dodged her chuckling, "I'm sexier when I'm wounded."

"You got me. Head injuries are _so_ hot." She replied sarcastically. Stiles started to slide out of the open Jeep door when she flashed her eyes at him and her voice lost its playful edge. "Sit." She commanded.

Stiles sat back down throwing up his hands in exasperation. "Wild animal," he grumbled.

Malia smirked impishly after getting her way. She touched his jaw lightly, angling his head so she could see the cut. It wasn't deep or long but with the bacteria living in that river it could easily get infected. Stiles screwed up his eyes and grimaced, as she started cleaning the wound.

"Feelin' sexy now, Stilinski?" she teased.

"Ow…oww… owww." He whined unnecessarily, trying to twist his head away.

"Stiles, it's like a pinprick." She chided.

His eyes shot open and he arched an eyebrow, "Then why do you keep feeling the need to fix it?" he challenged, "It's working for you, admit it. You just can't keep your hands off me." He told her with a smirk.

Malia had a pithy reply ready but it died on her lips when she realized her position. She was half crawled in his lap, with his head in her hands and he had all of her attention, all of this with only a modicum of effort on his part. He shot her a crooked grin and waggled his eyebrows.

 _Score one point for, Stilinski._

Malia bit her lip choosing to subtly slide out of his lap and discard the alcohol swab rather than admit he might have a point. She tore open a bandage and avoiding his eyes she leaned back into his space, smoothing it over the cut. Stiles watched her his grin slipping as he noticed the serious look she wore as her thumb lingered over the bandage. Reaching out Stiles caught her hand, and squeezed it.

"Hey, I'm OK." he assured.

"I know." She whispered, sliding her other hand into the short hairs at the nape of his neck. His eyes fluttered closed as her fingers began kneading the back of his neck. Malia tilted his head forward and laid a soft kiss to the skin beneath his bandage. He leaned into her kiss his warm breath ghosting against the skin of her neck. She subtly tightened her hold on his neck and black cords suddenly appeared on her arm as she stole his pain. She gasped softly as his pain dissolved into her skin. When she pulled back his breathing was ragged and his big brown eyes were locked on hers.

"Thanks," he rasped, his eyes drifting down to her lips, then back up to her eyes. He stole into her space his breath grazing her lips as he leaned in for a kiss. But at the last moment he dodged her mouth.

"We'd better go. Before _you_ start something we can't finish." He whispered against her ear before pulling away with obvious effort. Malia smiled impishly.

 _Score another point for, Tate._

Malia was feeling utterly pleased with herself as they hopped out of the Jeep. Stiles unscrewed the gas cap and clicked a few buttons on the pump before lifting the nozzle. Hitting the trigger he started filling the tank. Malia purposely brushed against his back as she reached to grab the squeegee from the bucket. As she started washing the windshield she could feel him watching her, so she threw a look his way, he cleared his throat and dropped his eyes. Malia chuckled. She moved back toward him, dropping the squeegee in the bucket, and propping herself against the Jeep beside him.

"You so aren't playing fair." He complained. Malia reached out to straighten the top button on his plaid shirt.

"When have I ever played fair?" she asked, as she dropped her hand. Stiles tilted his head considering this.

"Yeah, good point." He conceded, as he rocked forward pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. The nozzle clicked between them and Stiles drew back from her. He hung the nozzle back in its holster and screwed the fuel cap back on. Snapping closed the fuel door he straightened up and reached for his wallet.

"I'll be back in a few. Try and stay out of trouble for that long." He sassed as he rounded the Jeep heading for the convenience store. Her eyes lingered on him appreciatively as he strode away. He was one of the few guys she had ever met who was good-looking and completely unaware of it. Stiles had been boyishly cute when they met but in the last few years he had grown up filling out in all the right ways.

She shook her head at herself and played with the ring on her necklace. It felt right there. His mom's ring hanging over her heart next to her mother's St. Jude's medal. St. Jude was the patron saint of lost causes. Her mom had been a paramedic and always wore the medal as a reminder to never give up on people. That nothing was ever a lost cause if you were willing to keep fighting. She and Stiles could have easily been a pair of lost causes if a few good people hadn't been willing to fight to save them. She could never have imagined when they found her in the woods how much each of them would end up meaning to her.

Werecoyotes aren't known for being trusting creatures so they very rarely form packs. So it's surprising that Malia joined a pack at all. But maybe not so surprising when you consider she joined a pack of misfits rather than werewolves. Werecoyotes are also known to be fiercely independent so they often clash with alpha werewolves. But Scott wasn't just an alpha to Malia, he was one of her best friends.

Scott taught her how to tap into her coyote senses. To find the power within herself that had done nothing but scare her most of her life, and to channel it toward something good. Scott always saw the best in her. He would always put himself between her and danger, even when she didn't need him to. Scott introduced her to all of her favorite bands. He took her to her first concert. Scott helped her learn how to play guitar, shoot pool and cheat at poker. He was the brother she never had but always wanted growing up.

Lydia helped her survive math class. She scared off the bratty girls who tried to bully Malia on her first day. She helped her get dressed up for her first date. Lydia was the first person to give her a travel book. The first person to really ask her what she wanted to do with her life. They spent so many nights up on the roof of Oldcastle, where Lydia pointed out the constellations and told her the ancient stories behind each one. They backpacked through Greece together the summer after college. Malia cannot think of that trip without remembering Lydia chasing after that mule who ran off carrying a bag full of her shoes. Most importantly Lydia taught her that being independent didn't mean you had to be alone.

Malia was pulled from her thoughts when she heard the bell chime on the convenience store door. Looking up she smiled as she saw Stiles walking towards her.

Then there was Stiles. When they first met he had a broken smile and haunted eyes, but he still left his window open for her every night. His room was the safe place she could always run to whenever she got scared. He didn't judge. Didn't expect her to talk. He was the one person she never had to explain herself to. Stiles taught her how to skateboard, to drive stick and he always helped her with her homework. He made her watch all the Star wars movies and got her hooked on cheesy old sci-fi novels. He pushed her to talk to her dad. Whenever things got scary or confusing he was right there with her. He made her laugh like a little kid. He gave her a weakness for plaid shirts, brown eyes and for boys who hid their good hearts beneath layers of sarcasm. He taught her how to be a friend. To stand by people even when every instinct inside you was screaming for you to run. He taught her how to love.

Stiles watched her curiously as approached the Jeep. "What?" he asked as he pulled open the passenger side door for her. Malia realized she must have been staring and blinked.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" she asked smoothly switching the subject. Stiles rolled his eyes at her.

"I'm fine." He grumbled, "Do you need me to prove it?"

"That depends," she said letting her eyes track over him greedily, "What are you suggesting?"

Stiles lifted his eyebrow at her before releasing the door and walking a few feet away from her. Turning back towards her Stiles comically tapped his nose with his finger and started walking in a straight line back towards her mimicking a sobriety test.

"Zee-Wy-Ex-Double-u-Vee-U-Tee-Ess-Ar-Cue Pee-O-En-Em," he recited flawlessly while he smirked edging closer to her. When he was within reach Malia started walking her fingers down the front of his shirt breaking his focus. "Uh…Aitch."

"I'll take those keys now." She said with satisfaction.

Stiles brushed her hand off his chest, "All that proves is that you're really distracting." He dismissed, ignoring her request and climbing into the driver's seat. Malia was laughing as she climbed into the Jeep next to him. Stiles was grumbling something unintelligible under his breath about coyotes when he pulled something out of his pocket. He threw Malia a package of her favorite gum. Malia grinned and popped a piece into her mouth. Stiles started up the Jeep, and pulled back out onto the highway. Malia blew a big gum bubble, then snapped it obnoxiously. Stiles rolled his eyes in her direction, Malia just grinned innocently and threw a wink his way.

* * *

The camp ground was quiet as they drove in, campfire smoke and the crisp smell of rushing water filled the air. Malia felt her heart leap in excitement. She loved this campground. She and Stiles had discovered it back in their senior year of high school and they had been coming here ever since. They always camped up in the interior sites that you had to hike to get to. They were on the cheaper side because you had to hike to get to them. That first time Stiles had complained about hiking, until they got to their site and saw how beautiful it was. After that it was always him insisting they pick that site in particular. They drove down a windy road and parked off to the side of it, near Malia's favorite waterfall.

Malia bounded out of the Jeep grinning. They grabbed their backpacks and water bottles silently agreeing to come back for the rest in the morning. Malia crossed the road and stood at the water's edge, dropping her bag by her feet. The mist of the waterfall kissed her skin, and all she could hear was the rush of the water. It was one of the few sounds that could eclipse even her supernatural hearing. She closed her eyes and breathed it the scent and touch of the water.

Arms wrapped around her and Malia leaned back into them, humming contentedly. All she could hear was the rush of the falls, all she could feel was his heartbeat steady against her back, and his lips trailing down the slope of her neck. His downy hair grazed her cheek. Malia reached back gripping the back of his head, threading her fingers in his hair.

"So this is where you were going to…" she trailed off, momentarily distracted by his lips on her skin.

Stiles brushed his lips against her ear, "Yeah. That was the plan." Malia lightly grazed his scalp with her blunt human nails. Smirking to herself when she felt his lips falter against her skin. Stiles nipped at her ear in retaliation, forcing a gasp from her. Malia tugged gently on the roots of his hair, angling him back toward her lips. She was half spun towards him when she rose up on her toes and captured his mouth in a searing kiss. Stiles banded one arm around her shoulders and the other around her lower back, drawing her up closer to him.

He moaned when she broke the connection. She nudging his nose with her own immensely pleased with his flushed cheeks, rumpled hair and dark eyes. It made her feel two parts weak and two parts powerful when he looked at her like this. She smirked brushing her lips lightly against his as they both caught their breath.

"One day alone with you isn't going to be enough time." She said gripping the collar of his shirt a little possessively. Even in the dark Malia could see the blush creeping up his neck.

Stiles chuckled, "I'm not the one who invited the whole youth center."

"Don't remind me," Malia groaned. "I might just have to sneak into your tent this weekend."

His eyes were half-lidded and he was staring at her mouth as he rocked forward to capture her lips in a soft kiss. When Malia tried to deepen the kiss, Stiles suddenly pulled away, cocking an eyebrow.

"Wait. What? We're not sharing a tent?" he asks disgruntled.

"Did I forget to mention that?"

"Uh…yeah!"

"Oops." She said innocently, "I guess you and I are going to have some sneaking around to do." She slipped one hand up his neck and into his hair threading her fingers in the ends of it. She nuzzled against the rough underside of his chin and nipped his pulse point, drawing a hiss from him. Wrapping her arms around him she drew him closer to her. Kissing along his jaw before stopping to nuzzle beneath his ear. The action was both affectionate and never failed to drive Stiles crazy. When she pulled away he was a little breathless and slightly mollified.

Malia smiled wickedly as she stepped back, "Race you to the tent, Stilinski." She said, as she ducked down to grab her backpack and started sprinting down the beach.

"Seriously?" he called after her. "It's like two in the morning where do you get the energy for this?"

Malia stopped, turning back to face him once she reached the edge of sand near the base of the trail leading to their campsite.

"How about you catch me and find out?" She challenges lifting an eyebrow at him. Stiles wrestled a flashlight out of his backpack before he started jogging after her. Malia grinned and disappeared into the darkness of the woods. She dashed through the forest leaping over rocks and roots. Running had always been one of the things that made her feel most alive. Her whole body was practically singing as she sprinted up the trail.

She stopped and ducked behind a tree tilting her head to listen for him. He was about forty paces behind her, his heart was racing from the chase. He didn't have her night vision so he had stopped running and was tracking her with a flashlight. Malia grinned to herself. He was being careful, he knew her game. Malia would always use her speed as an advantage, then she would hide in the forest and let him overtake her on the trail. Then when he was least expecting it she would pounce on him from behind.

Stiles was tracking her footprints with his flashlight, he wasn't going to let her win so easily this time. Malia flashed a grin toward the trail.

 _Clever, deputy. But let's see how you do with a little distraction._

Malia kicked off her motorcycle boots and tossed them behind her on the open trail. Malia let her toes sink into the soft earth and enjoyed the cool sensation for a moment. She listened for him again and heard his ragged breathing as he crested the hill twenty paces away. She allowed his flashlight to glance over her for a second, just long enough for him to catch just a glimpse before she dashed away laughing.

"Malia!" he called after her. She felt light headed as she ran off giggling. She knew he would be able to follow the sound of laughter, but she just couldn't contain herself. She was in her favorite place in the world, playing her favorite game with the only guy she ever wanted to play it with.

Where the trail started to narrow she left her belt. A few paces later Malia tossed her work shirt onto an overhanging branch. She ran a few hundred feet more before she ducked off the trail. Finding an outcropping of rocks in the forest Malia propped herself on the ledge of it and waited.

Closing her eyes she reached out for the sound of him in the darkness. He had just found her shirt. She could tell because his heart was doing that funny little thing it did whenever she toyed with him like this. Malia grinned wolfishly, she had him right where she wanted him.

Opening her eyes she drank in the sight and sounds of the forest at night. In the distance she could still make out the rush of the waterfall. A soft wind stirred through the trees, kicking up the spicy scent of cedar and oak. The crickets and tree frogs sang back and forth. Malia wiggled her toes in the soft earth. She could make out a thousand heartbeats, birds, squirrels, raccoons, badgers, deer—and then something much larger.

A chill skated down her spine. Malia straightened up on the rock and scented the air. Whatever _it_ was it didn't give off a scent. Malia stood, straining her ears to lock onto it. Its heartbeat was much too fast and much too powerful to be anything living in these woods. Whatever _it_ was it wasn't natural. Her first instinct was to run for Stiles and get him out of the woods. But if she did she would be leading this thing right to him. Malia's blood suddenly ran cold.

The heartbeat.

It was gone.

Malia couldn't catch its scent she couldn't track its heartbeat, but she could sense its presence, it was out there. She leapt off the rock and raced for the trail, charging in the direction of where she had last heard _it_. If she could do nothing else she would lead it away from Stiles. As she ran she caught sight of something ahead, a dozen pinpoints of soft glowing light. Curious and wary she slowly made her way towards them. She came to a tree and one of its branches was wrapped in a string of amber colored bulbs. Malia hesitantly reached out and touched one of the small glowing glass balls. The strings of lights cut a path in the night leading toward the familiar clearing of trees ahead, their campsite. She felt a pang in her chest. Stiles had done this, set up these lights for her. Another one of his romantic gestures.

And now whatever was out there was using that to lure them both into a trap. Malia flicked out her claws and let her senses fan out all around her. If she couldn't sense _it_ she would try to sense anything around it. She searched for the skittering heartbeats of the other animals perhaps they also sensed the creature. She tasted the air for the scent of fear. An owl swatted its wings a hundred paces to her left. A colony of ants were rebuilding their hill thirty paces to her right.

She reached the edge of the clearing and let her eyes trace over their campsite. The strings of amber colored lights circled their site. And instead of their usual four season tent, there was a makeshift tent of mosquito netting set-up at the heart of the site. It was billowing softly in the wind.

A twig snapped behind her and Malia swung around lithely, grabbing the intruder by the front of his shirt. Stiles stumbled forward into her grunting in surprise when he was abruptly met with fangs and fierce blue eyes.

"Got you?" he whispered uncertainly. Malia snapped back from him in relief and terror. Stiles had his backpack slung over one shoulder and was carrying her boots, shirt and belt over one arm.

"There's something in our camp." Malia whispered, "Stiles you have to run!" She ordered, pushing him away and back toward the trail.

Stiles dropped her clothes soundlessly and carefully set his backpack down. Reaching behind him he pulled his off-duty weapon from the holster at the small of his back. Straightening up he instinctively flanked her left side, knowing it to be her most vulnerable angle.

"Yeah. There's no way in hell that's happening." He whispered under his breath, as he soundlessly checked the chamber of his gun.

"Stiles!" Malia whisper shouted. Stiles caught movement out of the corner of his eye and trained his gun on it.

Stiles nudged her with his shoulder, "Malia, ten o'clock." Then out from the darkness the dark silhouette of a giant dog crossed into their camp. Malia stopped breathing. _Had the Black Dog tricked them into thinking they had captured it? Did it track them here? Or was this all a hallucination and they had never really left the Foundry Bridge?_

Then the great black creature inexplicably cocked its head to the side and flashed its ethereal blue eyes. Malia sucked in a relieved breath. Black Dogs like the one they had fought tonight had glowing green eyes. This wasn't the Black Dog it was just a pain in the ass black werewolf.

"Derek! What the hell, man?" Stiles shouted, as he lowered his weapon. The great black wolf straightened, unhinging his jaws letting his tongue loll to the side in a wolfish imitation of a devious smile. Malia's heart unclenched. She had never been so relieved to see her cousin, but that relief was also at war with a strong desire to kick his ass. As an evolved werewolf Derek could already mask his scent, but he must be learning to hide his heartbeat as well.

"What are you even doing here?" Malia growled at the wolf. Stiles holstered his weapon and shifted on his feet uncomfortably beside her.

"Yeah, I think this one's my fault." Malia swung to face him confused. Stiles shrugged. "I had a sixteen hour shift. So I asked Derek to come check on the campsite on his way out of San Francisco."

"So that's why you pulled Derek over." Malia said thinking aloud. Stiles nodded in agreement before shifting his attention to the wolf.

"Dude, I texted you, told you to forget about it. But I'm guessing you left your phone with your pants." Stiles said with a chuckle. Derek flattened his ears stalking toward Stiles snarling at him with bared teeth. Stiles held up his hands in a surrendering fashion. "Easy—easy a deal is a deal. No more stops, no more tickets. I swear." He promised.

Derek's ears perked up and he stopped growling, his jaws hanging open as if he were laughing at Stiles. The werewolf snorted dismissively at him before it trotted over to Malia. The black wolf, twined around Malia's legs and brushed against her sides, affectionately. Then the werewolf herded her closer to Stiles. Malia smirked as Derek brushed against her one final time before trotting away.

"Hey Derek!" Stiles called out. The black wolf turned back toward them. "Thanks." Stiles said as he gave the werewolf a nod. Derek flashed his eyes at the pair of them before vanishing into the night.

Malia left her backpack abandoned by the side of the trail as she ventured further into the campsite. She found herself in a ring of soft amber light, she reached out to touch the gossamer thin tent as it rippled in the soft summer breeze. It was beautiful. She had been to this campsite over two dozen times but tonight it was transformed into like something out of a fairy tale. And Malia was never one to hope for fairy tails. She turned toward Stiles who was smiling shyly with his hands in his pockets as he watched her eyes trace over what he had built for her. In that moment she knew no matter where she traveled in this world, that this was the most beautiful place she would ever find.

Malia's eyes locked with his and for a moment she just couldn't move, couldn't do anything but look at him. Stiles rubbed the back of his neck and moved towards her, "There was supposed to this meteor shower tonight." Stiles explained gesturing toward the tent. "I thought this way we'd be able to see it. But we kind of missed it."

Malia suddenly regained the use of her tongue, "It doesn't matter. I don't need a meteor shower." she said as she ran her hands up his arms, drawing him closer. Only he did this to her. Only he could make her feel this overwhelmed, this unsure of herself. "You already make me see stars." She told him as she gripped his shirt. A flash of surprise crossed his features, as he reached out to cradle her cheek.

"You know for a total badass," he said as he stroked her cheek, "You're really quite sweet." Malia dropped her eyes suddenly feeling a little shy herself. This only made his grin widen. Stiles pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. Malia let out a small indignant yelp of surprise. "Now, I think this is right where we were before, Scott called us."

"Actually, we were on the stairs," she corrected, snickering "Where you dropped me." Stiles tickled Malia sides in response. She chuckled and tried to twist away from him.

"Alright, smartass. I'm carrying you back down that hill and I'm throwing you in the lake." He decided as he heaved her over his shoulder.

Malia let out a shout of laughter and thrashing her feet, "NO! No. I'll be good." She promised while still snickering at him. Stiles slung her off his shoulder and back into his arms. He slowly spun her in a circle, before he softly set her down.

Malia leaned up on her tip toes and pecked his lips, walking backwards dragging him with her towards the tent. Her nose touching his, her lips skimming his. She parted the wispy curtain of the mosquito netting and pushed him down onto the makeshift bed. Malia knelt over him feeling like all the love in her heart was welling up in her chest. Stiles stared up at her with those big brown eyes, reaching up to stoke her cheek. As Malia leaned into his touch, her necklace spilled from her shirt, leaving the engagement ring dangling in the air between them. Stiles hooked a finger in her necklace, and gently tugged Malia down into a kiss that was completely worth getting lost in.

* * *

A few hours later an owl swooping by their tent screeching into the night jolted Malia awake. Her feet were tangled up in blankets and she was pressed up against something solid and warm. Lifting her head she scented the air and listened for any signs of danger. With her ethereal blue eyes she searched their camp. The fire had burned down to smoldering embers. The forest was at peace around them. Peaking over his shoulder she checked on Stiles. His face was buried in his pillow, but even in his sleep he held her hand possessively to his chest.

Satisfied that nothing was trying to eat them, Malia pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. Settling back down against him, she tucked her face into the back of his neck. Stiles hummed in his throat, tightening his grip on Malia's hand as he shifted in his sleep. Malia lifted her head and set her chin back on his shoulder, looking at him with a crooked smile.

She should let him sleep. He had just worked a double shift, tracked a Black Dog, and driven them seventy miles to get them here. If she was a decent person she would let him sleep. The only problem was that he smelled really good. He was radiating warmth and he was making these little irresistible noises as she nuzzled up against him. The chances of her falling back asleep at this point were slim, and if she stayed she would just end up waking him up. She searched for her backpack in the dark. She had packed her camera and it was nearly dawn. She decided to hike down to the waterfall and get some good shots of the sunrise and leave him to sleep.

She just needed to figure out a way to get her hand back. Malia flexed her fingers testing his grip. Stiles mumbled in his sleep drawing her hand closer to chest. She could feel his heartbeat pick up beneath her palm. Malia huffed a lock of hair out of her eyes and decided to change tactics. He was a deep sleeper, but she couldn't force her hand out of his without waking him.

Malia smirked wickedly as she got an idea. Leaning closer she blew on his ear. Stiles shifted away mumbling in his sleep. Malia bit her lip. She brushed her nose along his neck. Stiles gave a throaty chuckle, loosening his hold on her hand. Malia nuzzled beneath his ear, laying a soft kiss beneath it. That got his attention, he groaned releasing her hand to reach out blindly for her, his hand gripping her leg.

At this point she was home free. She could easily shift out of his grip and sneak out of the tent without waking him up. Except that Stiles was drawing his thumb sleepily along the back of her knee and making those little noises in the back of his throat. She loved the power she had to reduce that smart mouth of his to unintelligible gasps and groans. Malia couldn't resist. With a mischievous grin she bit the sweet spot on his neck. Malia felt his hand twitch on the back of her knee before he suddenly pitched her over his shoulder and onto her back. Stiles rolled on top of her and swiftly pinned her hands to the bed.

"What does a guy have to do to get you to sleep in?" He asked in a gravelly voice. The corner of her mouth quirked up, as she stared up at him. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were sleepy.

"He could quit being so much fun to wake up." She suggested. Stiles grumbled under his breath before releasing her hands and dropping his face into the crook of her neck. Malia squirmed as his hot breath tickled her skin. Stiles relaxed against her laying half on top of her. Malia ran her hands up his back chuckling, as he snuggled into her neck. His breathing was evening out. He could easily fall back asleep. Malia turned her head and brushed her lips against the moles on his cheek.

"Go back to sleep," she whispered, as she started to shift out from under him, "I'm gonna hike down to the waterfall." Stiles shifted, snaking his arms between her and the bed, pulling her closer.

"Stay." He coaxed sleepily, his teeth tugging at her ear. Malia's eyes fluttered closed. He was half asleep he should not have been able to get the upper hand so easily. But he did. She felt him grin against the side of her neck, as she started to give in. Stiles pressed light teasing kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. Malia growled catching his head in her hands tugging him up to her lips. Twining her leg around his she rolled them until he landed on his back, and he was staring up at her with heat in his eyes and the hint of a smirk. Malia lingered over him a breath away from his lips, her hair falling around them like a canopy. He reached up, tracing her lips with his thumb, before Malia swooped down stealing his breath again.

* * *

After Stiles fell back asleep Malia snuck soundlessly out of their tent with her camera and his plaid shirt. She buttoned it up over her tank top in the pre-dawn light as she searched for her boots near the mouth of the trail. After she tugged on her boots she tossed a few logs in the pit and stirred up the coals, until it caught. The fire would keep Stiles warm and the smoke would ward off animals while she was gone.

Malia took the long way down the hill. Meandering through the trees enjoying the spongy feel of the moss beneath her boots. She breathed in the fragrance of wildflowers and the crisp morning air. High up in the trees the birdsongs began to swell as the sun started to break through the trees. Malia broke out into a run. The first rays of dawn lashed the sky setting the clouds on fire. Malia made it to the beach just as the sun crested the hills. The water was crowned with early morning light. Malia grabbed her camera and dropped her bag. Sinking down onto the sand she brought up her camera gripping the lens as she tried to capture the light.

Malia used up nearly all of the film in her vintage Nikon. The rest of her film canisters were back at the site. With only one shot left she decided to hold out in case the perfect opportunity presented itself. Malia climbed up onto the rock ledge near the waterfall. Malia rested her head against the coolness of the rock as she lost herself in the drum of the water. When the sky settled into a breathtaking blue Malia hopped across the river rocks back to the shore. She settled against a familiar log of driftwood. She reached out and traced her hand over a pair of initials carved into the wood.

Malia played with the ring on her necklace. She was never really the kind of girl to daydream about her wedding. One summer in college she had taken a second job as a wedding photographer's assistant. It had been a painful test of her patience and her temper. She only worked a few weddings before she quit from sheer frustration with the whole spectacle. She had no patience for bridezillas who talked down to their grooms. She had even less for obnoxious grooms who were covered in the scent of one of the bridesmaids. She always rolled her eyes whenever one of the brides would refer to their wedding as the most important day of their life.

She only worked one wedding that truly moved her. It was the wedding of a deaf couple and Malia liked them almost instantly. They were so happy and at ease with each other. The way they held each other's eyes spoke volumes. The way they touched each other with warmth and respect gave Malia an appreciation for what a wedding had the potential to be. She took some gorgeous pictures at their wedding. As they signed to each other a friend of the couple interpreted their vows. One of the lines from their vows struck a chord with Malia and it stuck with her. _All I want is you._

It was so simple. So sincere. It made her think of Stiles back then, even though they had been broken up at the time. Malia reached up unclasping her necklace and pulled the ring off her chain. She slid the ring back onto her finger and adjusted to the feeling of it on her hand. She was sensitive to things on her skin which is why she never really wore jewelry with the exception of her mom's necklace. It was a beautiful elegant ring but it would take a little getting used to. She let her eyes drift toward the trail.

 _Alright, Stilinski. I'll wear your ring as long as it means I get to keep you._

As she watched the light dance upon the engagement ring she caught a scent. Looking up she caught sight of a young coyote across the water. It watched her with curious eyes as though recognizing her as one of its kind. Malia flashed her eyes at the creature and it bowed its head in recognition. It dipped its head to lap at the water. Malia reached for her camera bringing it up and adjusting her lens for the distance. Looking through the lens she saw the coyote lift its head and its ears twitch backward.

Stiles lumbered out from behind the trees and down onto the beach across the river from her. The coyote loped away. Malia tracked it with her camera. It would doubtlessly be a flawless shot of the running coyote, but she couldn't bring herself to take the shot. Turning her camera on Stiles she grinned to herself as she spotted him through the lens. He was squinting at the daylight, his hair mussed and his t-shirt rumpled. At the edge of the water he kicked off his shoes and started jumping the river rocks, making his way toward her. Malia spun the focus ring as she watched him through the lens waiting for the perfect moment. When the sun struck his hair in just the right way she took the shot. Without even having developed the film yet, she knew it was going to be one of her favorite pictures of him. Malia lowered her camera and enjoyed the lazy smile he wore as he made his way across the sand toward her.

Stiles leaned down to brush her lips in greeting. He pulled a thermos from his backpack and offered it to her. Dropping his bag on the sand he slid into the space behind her on the log and wrapped his arms around her. Malia leaned back against him and squeezed his arm. She twisted open the thermos and grinned at the rich smell of coffee boiled over the fire. Pouring some into the cup she brought it up to her nose. One of his hands slipped down to toy with the ring on her free hand. Malia drank in the aroma of the coffee, the fragrance of the forest and the intoxicating scent of joy emanating from Stiles.

"Catch any good shots?" he asked after a moment, his voice still rough with sleep. Malia smiled into her cup as she answered.

"At least one."

The End

* * *

 **Thanks everyone for your feedback and encouragement with this story. I will be posting another story that is set in the 'To Save a Life ' Universe later this week. Its called 'Nine Simple Rules' and it chronicles Stiles and Malia's five breakups mentioned in the epilogue. So you will getting to see much more of Oldcastle, the Cameo, Obi and Tate's Garage. And you will meet some of my original characters like Rory Stilinski, Cale Corban, Joe Garrity and Tuck. I hope you guys have as much fun with it as I have. Sincerely, Hurricane.**


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